


It's A Kind of Magic

by 6s_and_7s



Series: Wibblyverse Continuity [5]
Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Arson, Conspiracy, Found Family, Gen, Magic, Mob Violence, Neglect, Redemption, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6s_and_7s/pseuds/6s_and_7s
Summary: Trixie has hit rock-bottom. Desperate for compassion, she returns to Ponyville, seeking Starlight Glimmer. Unfortunately, Starlight isn't there. Even more unfortunately, Trixie can't get to Canterlot, and is stuck in the town where her life really spiraled out of control, a town where not everypony has forgiven her. She seeks redemption and acceptance, but things are complicated when a spate of dangerous arsons hits the town.





	1. Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Act I: In which Trixie, having fallen from greatness, seeks out her best friend and her worst enemy. Her tragic backstory is revealed.

                                                                 

The first time she had come, she had come in pride. The second time, she had come in wrath. The third, perhaps, in envy. Now, she looked at Ponyville with tired eyes, her mane plastered flat against her head in the driving rain. Her cloak she had left in the wagon; in this weather, the garment would serve more as a wet blanket than anything approaching shelter from the elements. Were she not so tired, not so hungry, not so weakened, she would have used a shield spell as an umbrella. And yet, she was so tired, so hungry, so weakened, and thus was forced to slog through the dolorous downpour and miserable muck that matted her blue coat and tangled her tail. The wagon had sunk in the mud not far outside of town. When she tried to free it, she bungled the spell and broke the front left wheel. Had the weather been more clement, or had she been less desperate, perhaps she would have tried to fix it. Unfortunately, her options had been closing rapidly for a long time now.

 _Seriously, RUT wheels_ , the unicorn nominally known as the Great and Powerful Trixie grumbled mentally as she violently shook a particularly large clod of sod off of her hoof. If she was honest, it was a good thing that the night was so dark and miserable. In this weather, nopony could see her form against the dark shadows, likely not even Princess Luna herself. Nopony in town could see her in this, her lowest hour. At least, not yet. That would come tomorrow, she supposed. Still, if nothing else, she knew that she had at least one friend in this town. A friend whose abode she could already see down the street. Even if… she… lived there too, Trixie would abide. She yanked her hooves out of the muck and mire and slowly made her way toward the crystal Castle of Friendship. Toward, she hoped, salvation.

 

***

Twilight stared up at the ceiling of the library, counting the tiles absently. She resisted the urge to count the number of rows and multiply it by the number of columns, as that would only hasten the return of boredom. 23 x 87 = 2001. Horseapples.

With a sigh, she rolled off the chaise and lay in a lump on the floor. What miserable weather it was. She’d had to cancel her plans for the evening when the storm rolled in. Though she’d intended to have a sleepover with her friends, she couldn’t ask any of them to slog through the muck and rain to her house, especially not Applejack or Fluttershy, who both lived so far away. Rarity, of course, would hardly tolerate the miserable effect the rain would have on her mane, and Spike had elected to stay with her and Sweetie Belle at the boutique. Rainbow and Pinkie probably could have made it, but though Twilight loved all her friends dearly, the idea of being stuck inside with those two all night made her shudder. Anyway, her heart had gone out of it.

Thus, here she was, counting ceiling tiles. For once, she didn’t feel like reading. There was a nagging sensation at the back of her skull, some terrible portent of doom. Not that she believed in such things, per se, but that was certainly what it felt like. At this point, she was willing to accept that it could be almost anything. She couldn’t think of any list she’d left unchecked, no task left undone, no experiment left abandoned. Though she had realized that she’d put her artificial life experiment on hold a little too long. The cheese sandwich she’d been using had wholly decomposed.

In short, there was nothing past or present that she could pinpoint as the cause of this strange distraction. And it certainly was a strange distraction! Why, she couldn’t even get through the first ten pages of Starswirl’s  _Sorceria_ , normally her primary go-to reading. And so, it was time to consider that the future might just be an option. Ever since the Pinkie Sense incident (not to mention her own dabbles in time), she had become rather more open to the idea of premonition. She had just begun to wonder if it might not be possible to recreate Starswirl’s time spell to test fortune-telling abilities when she heard a faint rapping at the door.

 

***

There are a number of laws which govern the universe, not all of which are fully understood. Most aren’t even meant to be understood, much like the rules of table etiquette, or cricket, or school dress codes. While the laws of the universe are much less draconian than any of those, they make up for it in terms of sheer incomprehensibility. For instance, the way that lightning will strike the same place two or even more times, provided that the same being is standing there as when it first struck. Or there is the law which dictates that if you have forgotten your (book, paperwork, badge, etc.) at home, it will turn out to be the one day that you actually needed it. All of these things evidences that the rulebook of the universe was written by an entity with a warped sense of humor. If further evidence is required, consider that all laws of the universe, were they to be written down in a very large book, would have an asterisk after them, leading to a footnote that would read *Except Pinkie Pie.

 

***

And thus, though Twilight Sparkle was indeed possessed of great power and good horse sense, she dutifully turned in the direction of the knock and stated, “Now who could that be at this hour?”

She rose from her position on the floor, possibilities running through her head. Had Pinkie and Dash come by after all? Had Spike decided to keep his big sister company? Perhaps it was Ditzy Doo with a late-night delivery? She trotted quickly to the front door and threw it open. The figure on the doorstep was positively drenched. Wet leaves stuck in her mane, and mud and muck plastered her fur against her flesh. Twilight gasped. “Oh, my. Are you alright? Here, come in, come in…”

The visitor trotted in on shaky hooves. “Where…” she choked. “Where…”

“Yes?” Twilight encouraged.

“Where is Starlight Glimmer?” the pony finally finished.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed slightly, then widened. Underneath the patina of muck and detritus, she could see the blue coat and white hair that denoted only one pony she could think of. “Trixie?”

“Twilight. Where is Starlight Glimmer?”

Twilight gave her the once-over. No hat, nor a cloak. Walking through Ponyville from an unknown starting point through a truly nightmarish storm. Calling her ‘Twilight’ rather than ‘Sparkle’...

“Trixie, what’s happened to you?”

The showmare chuckled drily. “As though you would care.”

“I do care!” Twilight insisted. “Are you alright? Hold on, I’ll go run you a bath.”

“...Thank you,” Trixie said slowly. “That would be… appreciated. Meanwhile, Trixie must go find Starlight Glimmer. She is not abed, I trust?”

Twilight bit her lower lip. “Um… she’s not here.”

Trixie flinched. “Oh. Ah. Will she be back soon?”

“...She’s in Canterlot.”

“Within the week?”

“I got her a job in the College of Magical Arts. Research and Development. She’s doing well…”

“Will she be back to visit anytime soon?” Trixie asked desperately.

“...Would you be willing to wait for Hearth’s Warming?”

Trixie stared, mouth agape. “That’s over seven months away!” She recovered herself. “Very well. Thank you for your offer of hospitality, but Trixie must be heading to Canterlot.”

The unicorn turned, but the doors closed quickly in her face. “Absolutely not,” Twilight said firmly. “Canterlot is at least two days away on hoof, and the most direct route there is through the Everfree Forest. Going in there wouldn’t just be stupid, it’d be virtually suicide without a guide.”

Twilight’s eyes softened and she sighed. “Come have a bath. In the morning, I’ll get you a ticket for the Canterlot Express, or if you really want to walk, I’ll get you a guide. For now, though… well, I had a sleepover planned anyway. So, what do you say?”

Trixie hesitated. On the one hoof, this was Twilight Sparkle, her long-term nemesis! Trixie would not trust her, not a whit.

On the other hoof, Twilight had never seemed to be as focused on the whole ‘nemesis’ thing as Trixie was. And a bath and the promise of a warm bed, not to mention an actual train ticket, was… frankly flabbergasting. She turned slowly. “That would be… good. Trixie thanks you.”

Twilight smiled. It was a real, earnest, honest smile. Trixie was not quite sure what to do with this. “I’ll show you to the bathroom,” Twilight said quickly, trotting away, up the stairs.

 

***

Trixie stared at the magnificent bathroom— no, that simple term did not do it justice— The Truly Magnificent and Splendid Room of Bathing, yes that was better. Every surface was polished crystal. So, admittedly, was the rest of the castle, but it was never really the focus. Here, the precise gem-cut tiles, the glistening reflective shine, the bevelled corners… everything shouted “Crystal! Crystal! Crystal!” The bathtub was a recessed bowl in the floor, easily large enough to accommodate eight ponies and a rubber duck, which her hostess was currently filling with steaming hot water. Dozens of bottles of soaps and shampoos and bubble baths were neatly organized on shelves around the room.

“Well?” Twilight asked, smiling at the waterlogged mare. “What do you think?”

Trixie stared around. “This opulence is truly staggering.”

Twilight’s smile faded. “I meant, the hot water enchantment.” Trixie blinked and peered closer. Indeed, the bathwater was emerging from the faucet steaming hot. And, focusing, the magician could see the faint traces of an enchantment woven on the plumbing.

“A heat spell?” she guessed. “That must take some effort to maintain…

Twilight grinned and shook her head. “Guess again.”

Trixie frowned and peered a little closer. Faint spell lines lingered in a weblike pattern, forming… “A teleport array,” she realized, nodding. “From where?”

“I have another tub, enclosed, in the basement,” Twilight explained. “Every morning, I fill it with water, and start a fire underneath. Not only is it a useful steam-powered generator for some of my experiments, I can also teleport some of the excess hot water to this tub when I need a hot bath. Most of the time, I actually need to cast a cooling spell on it. It’s a lot of work, but I get more actual power out of the process with lower constant maintenance.”

“...Yes. Very nice,” Trixie agreed slowly, her cheeks flushing with anger. As though the opulent splendor of the castle wasn’t enough, the purple mare insisted on showing off her cleverness to mock Trixie as well. “If you will pardon Trixie?”

Twilight blinked once in confusion, and then realization dawned. “Oh! Right. Sorry. Use whatever you need,” she said gesturing to the wall of toiletries.

Trixie nodded with great dignity and stiffly examined the bottles as the alicorn took her leave. A sly smirk flittered across her mud-streaked face.  _Whatever I need? Hmm…_

 

***

The Great and Powerful Trixie settled back into a cloud of bubbles with a contented sigh. The foam extended over a foot above the rim of the tub. Everything smelt of artificial strawberry and soap. Trixie felt cleaner than she ever had in her life. The fuzzy feeling of the bubbles tickled at her coat as she sank beneath the foam.

It was warm. It was lovely. It was a full-body massage with homemade cookies and a “happy ending” from the charming spa mare. She could feel the dirt and mud and worries drifting away as her fur and mane untangled from the leaves and twigs she had accumulated over the course of her walk.

Holding her breath, Trixie dove under the suds with eyes shut tight. She felt around until she brushed a hoof against the bottom of the basin. She pulled her body down, down, down, until she could lie on the bottom of the bathtub. She felt her spine conform against the hard curves, heard that oh-so-comfortable cracking sound that accompanies self-chiropracty, felt the bubbles leaking from her mouth as she sighed in sheerest bliss. She felt as though she could lie down here forever. Then her lungs started burning and no she couldn’t.

With a gasp, Trixie breached the surface of the tub once more, spattering droplets of soapy water over the bathroom floor. She treaded water for a few moments before grabbing a terry cloth and some shampoo off the shelf. If she was going to get clean, she was going to do it right.

 

***

_Dear Princess Celestia,_  
_I’ve just had a surprising visitor_

 _Dear Celestia,_  
_Something of some concern has just happened, and I would appreciate_

 _Celestia,_  
_Trixie has come back again, and I don’t know how I can_

_She’s in the bathtub._

_I don’t know what to do._

_Help_

Twilight set down her quill and rested her head against the desk. It was all academic, really. Without Spike readily available, there was no good way to send the letter to Celestia. Anyway, she had been trying her best to wean herself off of her dependence on the elder princess. This had come slowly, and with limited degrees of success. She was on her own, alone with a mare that she knew next to nothing about. Aside from what few deductions she had gleaned from her prior experience with the magician, she knew only two things about her guest; that she was from Neigh Orleans, and that “The Great and Powerful Trixie” was a stage name. She only knew that much because of what the magician had let slip to Starlight. Did she have a family? Had she always been a stage magician? How old was she? Twilight knew none of this, and it was beginning to make her ever-so-slightly tense.

And most importantly, what in the world was she doing outside on a night like tonight? Where was her wagon? Where, moreover, was her brash personality? What had happened to the illusionist to so… dilute her?

Twilight didn’t much like Trixie. She found her rude and abrasive in the extreme. Then there was the whole time she conquered Ponyville. And the time she manipulated Starlight into choosing between the alicorn and the magician…

Nevertheless, she couldn’t just leave the unicorn out to dry, especially because of the whole ‘saved me from the changelings’ part off their relationship. But what could she do? How could she help when she knew virtually nothing about the situation?

Twilight’s mouth tightened into a thin line and she nodded firmly to herself. She would just have to find out. Through secrecy and subterfuge…

 

***

Trixie’s coat glistened with water, and her mane was neatly brushed. She almost felt Great and Powerful again. Almost. The humiliation of accepting her arch enemy's hospitality— not to mention the events that led up to that embarrassment— was far too great for that. She grabbed a towel off the rack (so fluffy!) and dried herself roughly. She tossed it in the general direction of the laundry hamper, missing badly. She sighed and grudgingly levitated the cloth into the basket. She opened the door, and stopped suddenly.

Hanging there was a white dressing gown. It looked fluffy. Trixie reached out to stroke it. Warm, too. She hesitated for only a moment. Then, with sudden vigor, she yanked it from the hook and swirled it around herself. It was applause and cocoa with whipped cream and the twinkle in the eye of a pretty mare. Trixie almost hated herself for loving it so much. Almost. She might despise Sparkle, but she had to admit the mare had class.


	2. Play the Game

Twilight idly reorganized her spice cupboard as she waited for the kettle to boil. The Dewhoof Decimal System was fine, she supposed, but Library of Canterlot would be much more efficient. Once, it had been organized alphabetically, but that had grated on her nerves.

The door creaked open. “What are you doing?” Trixie asked, vague suspicion in her voice.

Twilight turned with a smile. “I just thought you might want something nice and warm to drink. Didn’t know if you wanted coffee or tea, though, so I just made cocoa.”

Trixie’s eyes widened slightly. “Cocoa… cocoa will do admirably.” She paused. “Might you have such a thing as whipped cream lying around?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Let Pinkie into the kitchen, and you’ll be amazed what turns up,” she sighed. “I swear, ingredients just… manifest around her. So, yeah, probably. Hold on.”

The icebox opened, and a canister of aerosol whipped cream floated out, suspended in a magenta miasma. It set down on the counter right in front of Trixie. “Whipped cream, huh?” Twilight nodded. “I’ll have to try that sometime.”

“Will the cocoa be done soon?” Trixie asked.

“Not for another,” Twilight pulled out a pocketwatch and examined it. “Five minutes, twelve seconds.”

The blue unicorn grunted and stared off into the middle distance, abstracted. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything more, Twilight spoke again. “You know, I never really blamed you.”

Trixie looked round in surprise. “Not for the Ursa attack,” Twilight continued. “Yeah, you were being kind of a jerk to my friends. Yeah, you were definitely being rude to all of Ponyville. But you weren’t the one who poked the Ursa.”

Trixie still said nothing. The cloyingly sweet smell of hot cocoa hovered thickly in the silence. Twilight frowned slightly. “I wish you would have stuck around,” she said quietly. “We could have fixed things. We could have fixed your wagon. Maybe we could have been friends. I wish we could have been friends.”

“Well,” Trixie said gruffly. “We couldn’t. Some things don’t get fixed, Sparkle. Some things can’t be fixed.”

Twilight fell silent. “...We could be friends now,” she offered. “Just for a night, if you like. I mean, it’d be really awkward having a slumber party with just your… what was the word you used?”

“Nemesis.”

“Oh, right. Nemesis. Heh. That word actually has an interesting etymology, comes from the name of an ancient Minoan goddess of retribution. She balanced the scales, see? Knocked down the tyrants and the undeservingly—”

“Trixie is willing to accept your offer so long as your lecture ceases immediately.”

Twilight blinked. “Oh. Okay.”

There was a long moment of tense silence. To be precise, there were one-hundred and twenty-three moments of tense silence before the kettle shrieked, breaking the spell. Twilight blinked and stood up abruptly. “Um! Do you want anything with that whipped cream?”

“Have you any… pink frosting in a can?”

“I have pink frosting not from a can.”

“That will suffice.” Trixie hesitated. If she and Sparkle were going to declare a truce, she should probably try to make some concessions as well. It was only ethical. “...thank you.”

Twilight almost dropped the frosting when she heard that. Shock was painted across her face. Slowly, however, her expression grew into a warm smile. “You’re very welcome, Trixie.”

Trixie chewed her lower lip. “Beatrix,” she said at length. “Beatrix Lulamoon.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Beatrix,” Twilight said without missing a beat.

A teleport over to Sugarcube Corner had been risky. Managing to buy as many sugary comfort foods off of the Cakes as she could think of had been a bit pricey, though Twilight was sure she would use them up in the near future. Being able to gain Trixie’s— Beatrix’s— trust, though? Priceless. The stage magician wasn’t the only one with a few tricks to use…

***

The two mares retired to the library with their cocoa and frosting. Trixie had developed a whipped-cream moustache. Twilight smiled slightly, taking another sip of her cocoa, into which she had poured mint extract and several mini-marshmallows. She would have used the whipped cream instead, but Trixie had turned her cocoa into a towering pillar of fluff and emptied out the canister.

“Mm,” the alicorn sighed. “Just like mom used to make. What about you, Beatrix?”

The magician glanced up from the Leaning Tower of Dairy and cocked her head. “What?”

“Is that how your mom always made your cocoa?”

Trixie’s face tightened. “No,” she said. “Trixie’s mother was… never very good in the kitchen. Flora made it for me. And Trixie would prefer you to call Trixie Trixie.”

“Okay. Wait, who’s Flora?”

“Flora,” Trixie said, a soft smile breaking through the faint frown she had been wearing for most of the evening. “Flora was an earth pony mare. She ran an old-fashioned little cafe in the Old Quarter with her brother, Fauna. It was all covered in ivy and in the spring, it blossomed in violet and red... Trixie went there all the time when she was a filly.”

Twilight smiled. “You must have some great family memories of that place.”

Trixie’s grip on her cup tightened. “In a manner of speaking, Trixie supposes so.”

“What do you—”

“So,” Trixie interrupted. “We’re having a slumber party, are we not? Games, snacks, films, scary stories?” She glanced around. “Sleeping bags?”

“Oh,” Twilight felt like smacking herself. “When I realized nopony could make it, I kinda… put everything away. Uh, we’ll work out sleeping arrangements later. I’m sure I’ve got a spare room. Probably. I’m never really sure.”

Trixie blinked. “You’ve lived here for how long?”

“About three years now,” Twilight admitted, pinking slightly. “But every time I try to make a map of it, weird stuff starts happening. Whole hallways disappear. Rooms that I know were there yesterday are nowhere to be found, while new doorways appear in places they’ve never been. The compasses spin like pinwheels, and I swear I catch glimpses of myself walking down other corridors, always facing away from me, and always too far away to catch. Late at night, when I look away from my work, it disappears. If I keep trying, all the hallways disappear except for the one leading from the foyer to the Cutie Map.”

Trixie stared. “And this does not concern you in the slightest?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course it does. I don’t understand it, and I really don’t like things I can’t understand. On the other hand, whatever intelligence controls the halls seems to be mostly benevolent when left to its own devices.” She smiled weakly. “There are some things that just really shouldn’t be questioned. Things like Pinkie Pie, or self-aware castles. Trust me. I don’t like it either, but that’s one lesson I’ve learned the hard way.” Twilight shuddered. “So many anvils. So many.”

Trixie nodded slowly. She felt vaguely uncomfortable. “Err. What about games?”

The alicorn brightened. “Right! Yes. Well, a pillow fight is always an option… or, considering I don’t seem to have any pillows around here, maybe it isn’t. Hm. Spin the bottle doesn’t really work with just two of us…”

“Trixie is glad of that.”

Twilight ignored this. “Really, I can’t think of any good games for two players, except maybe hide-and-seek, and I kinda have the advantage there.”

“Really, Sparkle? Is that all you can think of?”

“I… well… There’s one game that Rainbow once mentioned, but Rarity and Applejack shot her down…”

“Hm. The rainbow one generally knows how to have a good time, from what Trixie has seen. We shall play her game!”

And the unathletic Sparkle will finally— Finally!— fall, Trixie thought to herself, a smirk passing over her face for a moment.

“Okay,” said the unassuming dupe. “Truth or Dare it is.”

“Ha, excellent! Trixie is a master of daring!”

“Okay. So, I seem to remember the rules like this. One player chooses truth or dare, right? And if they choose truth, the other player asks a personal question. If they choose dare, they have to do something physically embarrassing or silly. And if they can’t or won’t do the thing they chose, they have to do the other one, right?”

“Correct,” Trixie said with an air of detached superiority. “Trixie will go first, to show you how it is done. Truth or dare, Twilight Sparkle?”

“Truth,” Twilight said readily. “Actually, wait, hold on.” Her horn glowed a bright magenta, which danced over the crystal walls like firelight. “Truth field,” she explained. “So neither of us can lie.”

“Oh?” Trixie asked, glancing around. “Clever. Too clever by half. We’ll start off easy. What is your most embarrassing memory, Sparkle?”

“Oh. Um, wow. Give me a second, I’ve got a lot to choose from…” She stared into space for a long moment. “Okay. When I was sixteen, I had my first marefriend.”

“When you were sixteen?” Trixie guffawed.

“Yes. Shut up, or I won’t tell you the rest.”

The blue magician sat silent, smirking softly. Twilight took a deep breath and continued. “It was our third date together. We were at a little diner in lower Canterlot, just a few blocks away from my house. Well, it was a nice date. We’d had quesadillas and soft-serve ice cream, maybe not the most romantic meal, but a tasty one. She looks at me, and I look at her. She starts to lean in, I close my eyes…”

“And then?”

“And then my idiot brother, who’d decided to chaperone my date in secret, screams like a little filly and charges the table, because I am, of course, a young delicate flower whom he will not see perverted. He smacks into the table, sends stinking, gooey melted cheese flying everywhere. I went home that night sans marefriend and covered in cheese, having just wasted my first kiss… on my brother.”

Trixie turned beetroot red and burst out laughing. “Oh Trixie’s gosh! Are you serious, Sparkle? You are!”

“Ever since that day, I’ve never been able to look at melted cheese,” Twilight said solemnly, or as solemnly as anyone could with their cheeks glowing like coals. “I was so embarrassed I broke up with Twinkle there and then.” She took a deep breath and chuckled. “Jeez, I was a little idiot. Anyway, Trixie. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Trixie said laconically, sitting back.

“Hmm… Alright, Trixie. I dare you…” she glanced around the room. “See that easy chair on the other side of the room?”

Trixie followed Twilight’s line of sight. There was indeed an maroon chair, bulging with stuffing, reclining against the wall. “Trixie sees it.”

“Carry it over to that wall there,” Twilight said, pointing to the extreme opposite end of the room. “Without magic.”

The smirk dropped from Trixie’s face. “W-without magic?”

Twilight nodded. Trixie gulped slightly. Then, she set her jaw. “Alright,” she said, trotting away. “Trixie will do this dare!”

Fifteen minutes later, the unicorn had managed to drag the deceptively light-looking chair all of ten meters, less than a quarter of the way across the room. She tried to tug it a little further onward, but overbalanced, falling into a heap on the floor and panting desperately. Twilight trotted up to her and levitated forth a cup of water. The illusionist snatched it up and chugged it down. “Trixie is not giving up on this dare,” she said firmly, setting the glass down on the floor beside her. She grabbed the chair by its back and pulled it a little further, but it caught on the edge of the rug and tipped over, trapping Trixie underneath its fuzzy, pudgy bulk.

Twilight leaned over. “How ‘bout now?”

“Grr… fine,” the unicorn allowed, levitating the chair off of her back. “Ask of Trixie what you will.”

“What is your fondest childhood memory?”

Trixie started. Then, she chuckled. “This isn’t dinner party conversation, Sparkle. Ask Trixie a real question.”

“That was a real question. Right punctuation and everything.”

The magician rolled her eyes. “Fine. Trixie’s fondest memory…” Slowly, a smile spread over her face. “The Grand McGuffin.”

“What?”

“Not what, Sparkle. Who. The Grand McGuffin was one of the finest illusionists Trixie ever met. They were an enigma, clouded by mystery and enclosed in a puzzle.” She closed her eyes. “For all Trixie knows, they might not have been a unicorn. Maybe not even a pony. They were a shadow in the streets, a complete blank in the annals of history. But onstage… Oh, onstage… Trixie was only seven the first time she took in one of the Grand McGuffin’s shows. In the shadowy darkness lit by light of lime, rife with the scent of dye and popcorn, she saw them transform copper into gold. They summoned up the long dead for tea and light refreshments. They took Trixie’s hat, and they pulled an entire hatrack out of it.” The blue unicorn smiled wistfully. “Trixie never did find out how they did that one. That was the day that Trixie decided she wanted to be a magician. The first and best day of mastering the art of illusion, unsullied by… dank reality.”

“An entire hatrack?” Twilight asked, impressed.

“Oh, yes. And when they returned Trixie’s hat, it was full to the brim with brightly colored sweets and trinkets and the smell of the theater. She has never parted with it since.” She patted her head, and her face fell. “Well. Not for a long time, anyway.”

“You mean the hat from the story was your own hat?” Twilight’s eyebrows shot up. “And you hung onto it for all these years.”

“...Yes,” Trixie said slowly, gazing suddenly into a much darker place. A dark, wet place. Scraps of purple cloth floated on its surface. The faint image of a great Gothic house reflected up from the turgid water. Her mouth became a thin line. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Trixie dares you to give her your royal regalia for the night.”

Twilight gave the magician a searching look. “All right,” she said at length. “But I should warn you, it’s not very comfortable.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?” Trixie bit out, acid in her tone.

“Something like that.”

Twilight trotted out of the room, a sprightly spring in her step. Trixie slumped back. The game wasn’t even close to over, but she’d already lost. Already lost everything.

***

Twilight returned ten minutes later, carrying with her a golden necklace-thing, shoes, and tiara. Also, she held in her magic a glass of fizzing blue liquid. Trixie frowned. “What is that?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s a peytral. Goes around your neck. Not actually sure why, to be honest.”

Trixie scowled. “No, what’s in the glass?”

“Oh. Good question. Truth or dare?”

The unicorn glanced at the volatile blue liquid. A drop leapt out and hit the table. It fizzed unpleasantly. She swallowed hard. “Truth,” she decided. “Definitely truth.”

“What are your parents like?” Twilight asked, point blank.

Trixie blinked. “I— what— what kind of question is that? That’s not a proper question at all.”

“It’s still a question,” Twilight replied, shaking her head. She glanced at Trixie, then at the glass, eyes sparkling.

Trixie blew out a huff of air through her nose. “Very well. Trixie’s parents were…” she coughed. “Excuse Trixie. They were…” she hacked again. She paused and glanced up at Twilight. “Truth field?”

“Truth field.”

Trixie looked at the glass of frantically frothing liquid again. It looked very tempting, all of a sudden. “Right. Trixie will not beat around the bush. Her parents were not ideal. Her father, Smoke Signal, was in communication. He lived, breathed, and ate his work. He was never present, even when he was right next to you. Not for Trixie, anyway. Her mother, Vanity Mirror, was… well. What does her name suggest? She was self-absorbed, constantly primping, and couldn’t take criticism to save her life. She was never really there either. Illusions. Smoke and Mirrors.” Trixie huffed a half laugh. “At least for Trixie.”

Twilight sat silently. She really didn’t know what to say. “I’m…”

“Don’t.” Trixie glared at her. “Don’t you say it, or I swear I will leave this castle right this minute.”

Twilight’s mouth dropped open in the face of both the unicorn’s aggressive response and the fact that she had just used a first-pony pronoun. “Okay,” she managed.

Trixie glared at her for a moment longer, then nodded in acquiescence. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Trixie dares you to drink that liquid that you brought in with the regalia!” the unicorn said triumphantly. She paused. “Also, help Trixie to get this regalia on.”

“Right,” Twilight said, levitating over the golden shoes.

After some amount of trial and tribulation, the unicorn had been made to look like a princess. Trixie admired herself in the reflective shine of the walls. “I haven’t forgotten about that drink, by the way,” she called.

Twilight grimaced. “All right,” she sighed. She pinched her nose and levitated over the still-fizzing liquid. Closing her eyes tight, she threw back the beverage, swallowing it all in one shot. “Ack,” she gagged, blinking fiercely. “How Pinkie stomachs that stuff daily, I’ll never know.”

Trixie’s triumphant smile melted into a frown. “What was it?”

“Blueberry soda and human candy. ‘Pop Rocks,’ I think they’re called. Pinkie says it adds kick. I say it— urp!” Twilight winced. “Just adds—”

Whatever it added was loudly cut off as the petite princess’s jaw fell open and she belched massively. The crystal chandeliers clanged and chimed. “Uh, yeah. That.” Twilight concluded, blushing fiercely. “‘Scuse me.”

Trixie blinked once, her mane blown back into spikes. “And… Pinkie Pie drinks that… every day?”

“Yeah. She wanted to try coffee, but that was just… never going to end well. So, I gave her this instead.”

“Did that turn out… better than the alternative?”

Twilight shrugged. “The world is still here, isn’t it?”

“Huh,” Trixie said. “In that case, Trixie chooses dare.”

“Okay. This library is organized according to the Magnified Canterlot method, where the books are sorted according to LoC topic, then sorted from least to greatest information density, which is determined by a combination of font size to page size ratio, number of listed sources, and—”

“Never mind. Trixie will take truth,”

The violet alicorn blinked. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” the unicorn said flatly, glancing around at the massive shelves. The books were packed so tightly that any bookmark inside them would have been crushed to death.

“Well… alright,” Twilight said dubiously. This was going to be a tricky question. She would have to phrase this carefully.

“Why were you trying to get to Starlight Glimmer?”

Trixie choked, her eyes bulging. “Never mind. Trixie will do the dare now, please!”

Twilight shook her head sadly. “Sorry. Those are the rules. And I was only going to ask you to find a book, Trixie.”

The illusionist blinked. “You were…” she stomped a hoof. “Every time, Sparkle. Every time! Without even trying, you still best me in this— this foal’s game!”

Twilight cringed, shrinking away from the enraged unicorn. “You want to know why I came here? I’ll tell you why Trixie came here! She tried to visit her family, that’s why Trixie came here! For once, for one brief, shining moment, Trixie finally felt that I was going up in the world! And then she visited Neigh Orleans again. I visited Trixie's family again. And everything came crashing down. You, Twilight Sparkle, are just like him. Always superior to Trixie without even trying. You are just like my brother!”

She turned on a hoof and galloped out of the library. Twilight was too stunned even to reply. After a long moment, she sputtered, “...brother?”


	3. I Want to Break Free

Sherlock had Mycroft.

Romulus had Remus.

Mary Boleyn had Anne.

The Great and Powerful Trixie had Evening Glow, and that rivalry was as terrible and bloody as any of them.

***

The crystal corridors were long and winding, a positive labyrinth for the unwary. Trixie didn’t care. She didn’t care where she was going or how to get there, nor how to get back. She just wanted to get away from Sparkle. Away from everypony.

How long she ran, she did not know. She probably would have run forever, if she hadn’t tripped over one of her borrowed golden horseshoes. She fell flat on her face.

Whimpering and clutching at her face, she rolled over onto her side. All the tears that she had been holding in now forced their way out. Her mind flew back against her will, returning to the Neigh Orleans of last week…

***

The show had gone smashingly. Of course it had. These were her people. Not all of them, perhaps, knew her, but there were enough faces that she recognized from her youth to inspire her to an exceptional performance. She had pulled out all the stops. The card that was really in your saddlebag the whole time, the disappearing reappearing watch (which she had even reset to Canterlot time just to prove that she could) and for one lucky colt in the audience, a hoofful of peppermints in his cap. And her horn didn’t glow once. After the show, Trixie basked in the glow backstage. Bouquets had appeared as though by— well, magic. Countless well-wishers sent cards, chocolates, and in one case, a fresh-baked beignet. She recognized Fauna’s work as soon as she bit into it, the powdered sugar puffing gently back onto her tongue, not quite strong enough to make her cough. She had to work hard to suppress her ego, these days, lest she fall back into… Amulet territory. That was a mistake that Trixie was not about to make twice.

And then, after her third night treading the boards at the  _La Lune_ , she had received a card. It was of simple, yet elegant design, with sharp corners and thin lines. This card did not  _say_ , it  _insinuated_. It insinuated, in very very angular and tidy hornwriting, that Beatrix should arrive at the Lulamoon estate tomorrow, at no later than let us say ten in the morning? Make that eleven, I know how you performers love to loaf. No, noon. I must rest up before I look at you. A sort of beauty sleep by osmosis,  _n’est pas_? See you tomorrow,  _petite soeur_ …

She went. Ponies did not disobey Evening Glow. She supposed that at some point during her brief reign as evil overlady of Ponyville she must have been more terrible and manipulative than her brother, but Tartarus if she could think when.

He was well-kempt. He was always well-kempt. Never in her life had she seen a single strand of his mane out of place. He wore a cream suit, slightly off-color to his white coat. The same white, their mother claimed, as Celestia. Trixie never thought that was true. Celestia was a warm white. The white of the sun on a spring day. The white of melting vanilla ice cream, or perhaps the powdered sugar on a warm beignet. Cloud-white. Her brother was ice-white, exactly as warm and just as soft. Next to Evening, Celestia would look grey. His cutie mark was always covered. As a precautionary measure, he had it stitched onto his chest pocket, lest somepony somehow assume that they were his superior. It was a pentacle, a brilliant crimson circumscribed star. He had gotten it for summoning a fire sprite.

He stood at the wrought-iron fence in front of the house in which they had grown up. She had been told that he lived elsewhere now. Canterlot, she heard, or Manehattan. Somewhere big and glamorous. It didn’t matter. He was, to Trixie, always and forever associated with this awful, awful house, bound to it by a magic no less powerful than one of his summonings. His stance was poised, as though without effort. When he saw Trixie at the end of the block, he smiled, a cold alligator smile. “I thought noon was ample time to arrive,” he said lazily, sweeping his sister with his calculating gaze.

“Trixie’s watch says five ‘til.”

“ _Trixie’s_  watch would. Slow as the mare who keeps it.”

The blue unicorn’s hackles rose, but she fought to keep control. She would be as emotionless as he was. She refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her break. “You wish to speak to Trixie?”

“I wish to speak to my sister. You might remember her. Meek, easily frightened, with a mouth larger than the rest of her body? Take off the mask, Beatrix. You can be yourself. After all, we are  _family_. But then, I’m told that mud ponies and feather dusters are technically family as well.”

Trixie’s mouth pursed into a thin line at that remark, and even she wasn’t sure if it was at the vicious slurs or the idea of being a non-unicorn. She had no intrinsic dislike for pegasi or earth ponies, of course, nor minotaurs, griffons, donkeys, or any other sentient species. Xenophobia tended not to last very long on the road. At the same time, her pride lay largely in her magical skill. The very idea of having that taken away…

Evening’s mouth curled up at the ends. It was a smile in the same way that a strangler fig gives its tree a hug. “Enough pleasantries, let’s get down to business. I understand your little show has been drawing some kind of attention around Equestria, and so concluded that this might give you the idea that you were successful.”

“Trixie is successful at what she does.”

“Perhaps Trixie is. But is Beatrix? Are you happy with your lot, little sister? You traded life in the lap of luxury for a life on the road, banquets for campfires, servants for vagabonds.”

“Trixie admits this is so. But then, she also traded you for self-worth, so everything balanced out in the end.”

“I suppose self-worth buys you adequate lodgings? Three-course meals? Hoards of admirers?”

Trixie said nothing. Evening chuckled. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Had he gone into plastic surgery? No, his face had always been like that. “Why don’t you just… give up?” he asked. “Let the Great and Powerful Trixie disappear. Maybe I’ll even give you a job.”

“What, in Equine Resources, like when Trixie was five? No thanks. Trixie’s given enough blood to your endeavors.”

“Has Trixie indeed? Beatrix did, but Trixie is still lacking in proper tribute.” He paused dramatically. “Oh, I know. Not blood, perhaps, but something even more potent.” His horn glowed silver, and suddenly a weight was lifted off of Trixie’s head.

“Hey!” she shouted, grabbing at the levitating hat as it swooped out of her reach. “Give that back to Trixie!”

“Hm… give me one good reason.”

“It isn’t yours!”

“It isn’t Trixie’s either. Beatrix bought that ratty old hat at that dull magic show.”

“Beatrix is no more.”

“What a pity.” There was a terrible tearing noise as the cloth sundered down the seams. And again. And again. And again.

She did not move. She could not move. She was transfixed by the annihilation of her most prized possession, the one thing that always reminded her of happiness. “Dreams,” Evening said idly, inspecting the tattered pieces. “Even stronger than blood, when taken correctly, don’t you think, Beatrix?”

And then she was running, running, running. She didn’t care where she was going or how to get there, nor how to get back. She just wanted to get away from her brother. Away from Neigh Orleans. Away from everypony. But where could she go?

A pink coat. Striated mane. Starlight. She would go to Ponyville.

That evening, she left town without staying for her show.

***

A crystal floor with crystal walls is a terribly uncomfortable place to recline for very long. Sooner or later, the cold, hard surfaces really get to you, even if you have a fuzzy bathrobe to lie upon. And so, Trixie eventually had to sit up, the tears drying from her eyes. She looked around, half blindly, certainly not completely present. How had she wound up in this situation? How had everything gone so terribly to Tartarus? She replayed the evening’s events in her mind.

Oh. Rut. She had done it again. She had done it rutting again! Trixie let her head bang back into the wall, her eyes screwed up tight and her mouth as thin as a piece of paper. Time to leave. She’d set the regalia by the door, of course. And then she’d go… where? Away. That was the important thing. She rose to her hooves and trotted purposefully toward the front door. Then she realized that she had no idea where the front door was.

***

“Trixie?” Twilight called. Her only response was her own voice echoing back to her as it bounced off the crystal walls, magnified as it reflected off scores of polished crystal surfaces. The princess shuddered. As lovely as her castle might have been, she couldn’t deny that it could be a little creepy from time to time.

Regret was slowly chewing away at the inside of her stomach. In the heat of the moment, Truth or Dare had sounded like a great idea for revealing Trixie’s elusive nature. On some level, it had been. In retrospect, however, the scales had fallen from Twilight’s eyes. She had been prying, and she had resorted to nothing short of bullying to get what she wanted. Now she needed to make things up, if that was even possible.

If she could even find Trixie, that is. The castle’s winding corridors and secret passages were such that Twilight was certain that even the best navigators would be stymied for days trying to find their way around. Trixie was not, as far as Twilight knew, a great navigator. Twilight herself was no great shakes. Nevertheless, she would strive. She would strive. For as long as it took, she would wander these corridors, as restless and relentless as any ghost. She would—

Was that crying she heard? Twilight glanced around. It sounded as though it should be just ahead of her and to the left, but there was no hallway there, only a suit of armor. She paused. She squinted. Why did she have a suit of armor?

Thoughtfully examining the object, she pulled its lance ever so slightly forward and immediately felt a profound sense of vertigo as the wall did a one-eighty, taking the armor, the princess, and a fairly large portion of flooring with it. “Whoo,” Twilight muttered, holding a hoof to her head. “That’s new.”

From a corner of the hallway, a blue unicorn in golden regalia stared at her. “So,” she said, detatched. “You’ve come after Trixie. Never fear, she will return your regalia and leave you in peace. Simply show Trixie the door.”

Twilight frowned. “That isn’t why I’m here.”

“Oh? Why, then?” Trixie asked miserably. “Have you come to drag Trixie in front of the whole town? Humiliate her? Ruin her? Fine. You will not hear Trixie complain. She deserves it.”

The alicorn stared, horrified. “Trixie, I would never want to do anything like that,” she said gently. “Actually, I came here to apologize.”

The blue mare sat in stony silence for several seconds. “A… apologize?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes! I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. It was really rude, and I can see how deeply it affected you.”

“S’fine. You didn’t know.”

“No,” Twilight agreed, “but it had the same impact, regardless.”

Trixie stared at the violet mare, uncomprehending. “Why do you care?”

Twilight pulled back from the venom in those words. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because! Because you hate Trixie! Because you are my nemesis! Because Trixie doesn’t need your pity! Because Trixie never gets any pity anyway! Because nopony— ever—” She broke off, tears splashing on the ground.

Trixie felt a gentle wing encircle her. She didn’t care enough to pull away. “Trixie,” Twilight said quietly, “I don’t hate you. I think… I think I used to hate you, but… I think I might have been wrong about a few things, wasn’t I?”

The magician snorted wetly, mucus leaving bubbling trails down her muzzle. “You, wrong? Miss Perfect? Please.”

“I always thought that you were what I might have become if I had made all the wrong choices,” Twilight continued. “Leaving school, rejecting friendship, letting my ego get the better of me… but that’s not right. You aren’t the version of me who made bad decisions, you were the version who never had the chance to make those decisions.”

“Trixie doesn’t need your pity,” Trixie sniffled weakly.

“Alright… how about my sympathy? Would you like that? My sympathy, my compassion… my friendship?”

Trixie’s lower lip wobbled in an antediluvian manner. “That’s alright,” Twilight said soothingly, “let it all out.”

And she did.

***

Some two hours later, Twilight had managed to navigate them back to the kitchen. “Good morning, Trixie,” she said idly, staring at the clock. “Would you like anything for breakfast?”

The magician, still clad in the royal regalia and now less-than-fluffy white bathrobe, merely shrugged, silent and staring at the floor. “Pancakes, then,” Twilight decided, levitating out a mixing bowl.

“Trixie thought your dragon did most of the cooking?”

“Spike’s spending the night at Rarity’s. Anyway, it’s not like I  _can’t_  cook. I’m just usually too busy.”

“Huh,” Trixie said, detachedly.

“Do you want to talk at all?” Twilight asked as she cracked two eggs and threw them into a bowl. The magician hadn’t really said much of anything apart from occasional sentence fragments and loud cursing.

“No.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. At length, Trixie sighed, blowing out her cheeks like a puffer fish. “Now what?” she asked. “Trixie, for one, doubts that most other townsponies will be willing to accept her.”

“Well, do you want to stay in Ponyville?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “I would have thought that you’d have wanted to get back on the road.”

Trixie waffled. “Well… the Apologetic and Hopeful Trixie feels that she should at least attempt to make up with others whom she has… wronged…”

“You sound hesitant.”

The showmare snorted. “Trixie has tried this all before. The apology show, the grand finale, the ultimate flop. Why should this time be any different?”

“Have you considered changing your tactics?”

Trixie blinked. “Of course not. Why would Trixie seek to improve upon perfection?”

“Because it hasn’t been working?” Twilight replied, deadpan.

The blue mare scowled. “Alright, fine. Trixie takes your point. You know these ponies better than does Trixie. What would you suggest?”

Twilight grinned widely.


	4. I'm Going Slightly Mad

Celestia’s sun had, at last, risen in the east, as Luna’s moon set in the west. The birds sang merrily in their trees, willow-tit-willow-tit-willow and so forth; the ponies set up their market stalls, Caramel hailing Golden Harvest and Big Macintosh as they trotted past; the dew dried slowly from the grass; an alabaster unicorn trotted alongside a towering purple dragon.

“You know,” Spike said at length, “I always heard it was the stallion who walked the mare home.”

Rarity smiled up at her drakefriend— her  _drakefriend_ , she could still scarcely credit it— and said, “Well, darling, I’ve never held much in the way of tradition anyway. You know me, always innovating! Besides, I wanted to talk to Twilight about Sweetie’s progression in magical skills.”

Spike chuckled. “Speaking of, shouldn’t we have waited until she was actually awake before we left? I don’t doubt that she can take care of herself for a half-hour, but—”

“Darling, it’s the weekend. She’ll sleep until noon if I let her. I’m sure I’ll be home well in time to cook breakfast.”

“Right. Okay. Sure.” Spike grinned. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look this morning?”

“About three times, yes.”

“Well, it’s worth mentioning again.”

The fashionista smiled broadly. “Oh, you  _are_  sweet.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“What?” Rarity asked, blushing

“Pancakes,” Spike said, sniffing the air. “I believe Twilight’s been cooking.”

“Mm, lovely,” Rarity agreed. “Perhaps we can discuss Sweetie over breakfast, then.”

“By all means,” Spike said gallantly, sweeping a claw up in the direction of the castle’s front doors. “Let’s see if we can’t find the kitchen.”

***

Twilight nursed a cup of coffee quietly while Trixie perused the newspaper. “Trixie still has misgivings about this plan.”

“Don’t worry. I know my friends. They’ll warm up to you soon enough. Discord was far worse than anything you did, and now they and Fluttershy take tea every week. Starlight tried to erase us from history, and I took her on as my personal student. Sunset Shimmer— well, never mind that now. It might be a little rocky at first, but I promise, soon you’ll be one of the gang.”

“Sunset Shimmer?”

“A story for another day,” Twilight said. “Anyway, the important thing is that you make a good first impression. Er, fourth impression.”

At that moment, the kitchen door swung open. “Surprise, darling,” Rarity sang.

Trixie’s eyes went wide. “DRAGON!” she screamed, diving under the table and knocking over a chair. The chair fell backwards into the counter, knocking over a saltshaker. The shaker rolled backwards onto the thaumic mixer, which started up, knocking over the jar of spoons. The jar tipped onto the spatula for the pancakes. One pancake went flying through the air and landed with a moist ‘smack!’ on Rarity’s gobsmacked face.

Twilight blinked. “...Fifth impression.”

***

Twilight had gotten Trixie onto the sofa with a glass of warm milk to relax her nerves. Spike and Rarity had waited in the kitchen, very patiently under the circumstances. But now, they both wanted answers.

“Uh, good morning,” Twilight said, smiling weakly as she reentered the kitchen. “Please, help yourself to some pancakes.”

“I appreciate the thought, darling,” Rarity said coolly, “but I’ve already had quite enough.”

“...Right. You know she didn’t do that on purpose?”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Rarity agreed. “Little Miss Egomania would scarcely found a plan on hiding under a table.”

Twilight frowned. “Rarity, that’s—”

“Not very nice? Perhaps. But when has she been nice to anypony in this town, hm?”

“Rarity. She arrived last night hoping to talk to Starlight. She was willing to walk all the way to Canterlot, in  _that_ weather. Surely you can’t hate her that much?”

Rarity pursed her lips. “A trick. It was—”

“She broke down in tears,” Twilight said stiffly. “She couldn’t stop crying. She actually forgot to refer to herself in the third pony.”

Rarity worried at her lower lip. “Well… that may be…”

“I’m going to take her in,” Twilight said firmly. “She’ll be my new student or… or… we’ll work something out.”

“Take her in? Live with her?” Rarity asked, incredulous. “After everything she did?”

“How long ago were you saying that about Discord? Or Starlight?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“One of them betrayed us to Tirek, and the other tried to mind-control us, and those are just the worst parts of what they did after ‘reforming,’” Rarity retorted. “Spike, how do you feel about all of this? About sharing a roof with Trixie?”

The dragon looked up from his massive pile of topaz-encrusted pancakes. “Huh? Uh, okay, I guess. I mean, this way, we can keep an eye on her, right?”

Rarity frowned. “Hmph. Well, I suppose it’s your own business to whom you extend invitations, Twilight,” she said in a tone that implied exactly the reverse. “Just do remember how things have gone in the past while she’s been around, won’t you?”

Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but by the time she had thought of something to say, the kitchen door was swinging on its hinges. Spike took another bite of pancake, watching Twilight meditatively. “You really think this is a good idea?” he asked.

She sighed, slouching against the cabinets. “I wish I knew, Spike,” she said quietly. “I know that there’s good in her. She helped save us from the Changelings once, let’s not forget that…”

“But she’s still Trixie,” Spike said. “That tends to wear on a lot of nerves around here.”

“Ugh.” Twilight buried her face in her hooves. “I can do this, Spike. I’m the actual Princess of Friendship.”

Spike frowned. “Was that title ever actually, like… made official? Like, you’re a princess, but was it actually ever said ‘of Friendship’ or ‘of Magic’?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. The important thing is, that’s what I am, and that means that I am going to help Trixie intergrate into Ponyville even if it kills me.”

Spike grimaced and Twilight winced. “I tempted fate, didn’t I.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Twilight groaned and curled up into the fetal position.

***

Trixie paced up and down the library. The fluffy white bathrobe, much the worse for wear with sweat and mucus, lay discarded on the floor. Her horn was glowing softly, but she wasn't actually casting anything. Her mind was moving far too quickly for that. What would happen now? Rarity would speak her piece, and perhaps Spike would as well, and Twilight would listen. Of course she would listen, and remember, and she would change her mind. And then Trixie would be kicked back out on her flank. She had been so close! So very, very close to… something.

Not that it mattered now. She would, at the least, appeal to Sparkle for help moving her wagon out of the mud it had settled in. Perhaps she would mention that it would enable her to leave town more quickly.

Her legs gave out and she  _flump_ ed to the floor. What next, she wondered. Where could she go? What could she do? There was still Starlight Glimmer, of course. Perhaps she could ingratiate herself with King Thorax’s hive. She could go back to the rock farm. Discord she ruled out more or less immediately. And yet, none of those options appealed to her. There was something about Ponyville that made her want to stay, some strange emotion that compelled her…

The door to the library swung open on quiet hinges, but Trixie’s ears were very sharp. She inhaled, then rose to her hooves. Large green eyes studied her, wary and curious all at once. “...Spike, is it not?”

“Trixie.”

“So. You are Sparkle’s emissary, then.” She stifled a pain in the pit of her stomach. Very well. Trixie brought no luggage. She will be gone as soon as her wagon is recovered.”

The dragon blinked. “Uh.”

Trixie scowled. “What else? What other task has that albicant hussy talked your mistress into? Don’t give any thought to Trixie’s feelings, she’s sure.”

Spike’s eyes went narrow. “Hey, there’s no call for that kind of language.”

She sneered. “You will pardon Trixie for not thinking the best of a mare who wishes no more than to see Trixie’s behind crossing over the Ponyville border. A wish which is—”

“Not granted,” Spike interrupted, his voice as smooth and hard as his scales, his emerald-green eyes fixed on Trixie.

The magician blinked. “Come again? Trixie thought that Rarity wanted her gone.”

“Yeah. She said as much,” Spike said neutrally. “Twilight listened, then said that she was going to keep you as long as you wanted to stay. You’re getting my old job, by the way, but keep your hooves off my old room.”

“But…” Trixie trailed off.

“Are you seriously complaining about this?”

“No! No. Trixie is not complaining, no. She is, however, somewhat… confused? Rarity is Spark— Twilight’s friend, is she not?”

Spike cocked his head. “Yyyeah? Her friend, my marefriend, element of Generosity…”

“And Spar— Twilight chose to listen to Trixie over her?”

“Apparently,” Spike said, in a tone that could cut glass.

Trixie looked lost. Spike regarded her perhaps a little less coolly than before. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you.”

“...Not really,” Trixie admitted. “But Trixie thinks that she would like to keep doing it.”

The dragon let out a slight ‘hrm. It was a thoughtful sound, as though he had just read a peculiar factoid in an encyclopedia. “Twilight said I shouldn’t ask why you came here unless you wanted to talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?”

She thought about that. Talking to Twilight had, oddly enough, lightened the load on her shoulders. Maybe it was a princess power or something. Maybe it was just a Twilight thing. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a ‘friend’ thing. (Wait. Was Twilight her friend now? When had that happened, exactly?) But oh, it had hurt like pulling an ingrown hoof, protracted and agonizing. “Not yet,” she said simply.

Spike nodded once. “Twilight’s up airing out a guest room,” he replied, as though the question and answer had never occurred. “She’ll be up there for a little while, and she asked me to take you around town.”

Trixie went very pale and still. “I…. what… I, no, she can’t, I…”

He frowned. “Trixie?”

“I haven’t prepared!” the unicorn said shrilly, not quite screaming, but getting close. “I, I haven’t figured out how to greet them, or how to apologize, or the proper order to go in. Should I visit the mayor first? It never does to be on the bad side of local authority, Trixie has discovered that the hard way. Should she visit those she was kinder to, or those she was crueller towards? Snips and Snails! I, but, can’t, I!” She twitched once, and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Spike blinked slowly. “Huh. Introducing an antisocial, skittish unicorn to Ponyville. It’s deja vu all over again.”

***

Rarity marched down the high street. She did not ‘storm’. Ladies do not storm, nor do they sulk. It was a completely justifiable and well-measured response to what was, all told, a really very jarring upset in her world. If anypony had anything to say to the contrary, well, she had a rather powerful bucking kick and extremely good aim.

Indeed, though she was positively exploding on the inside, on the outside, she was the very model of calm and collected. A single hair sprang out of place on her coiffure. Her left eye was twitching erratically. She was fine. Absolutely in control of her faculties.

Cheerilee frowned as her conversational partner at the apple stall fell silent. Not that the farmer wasn’t usually silent, of course, but she had learned over the years that Macintosh Apple had a variety of silences which were, in their own way, more informative than words. There was the companionable silence that told her, “I’m here for you. Talk for as long as you need.” There was the awkward silence which had been on display for weeks after the Love Poison incident, a silence which she had shared. Mac was a sweetheart, but she had eyes on other prospects. As, apparently, did Mac. The farmer had been sweet on the local librarian-cum-princess for some time now. Cheerilee had been the first one they had confided in.

There was the rare stormy silence that accompanied fractured tree trunks and doors which were very nearly slammed, the distant silences which outlined two elder figures now long gone, the awkward stammering silences that occurred in the presence of a certain purple princess. Then there was the “Oh sweet buck, hide me,” silence that was now currently being broadcast like radio static.

She watched, slightly amused, as the hulking farmer tried to shrink behind the stand, and turned to see what the fuss was about. Immediately, she wished that she had just vaulted over the counter and hidden under her larger friend’s barrel. Rarity was on the warpath. Morbid curiosity warred with self preservation, but eventually concern for her friend won out. “Rarity?” Cheerilee called. “Are you alright?”

The unicorn’s head snapped towards the schoolteacher, and suddenly Cheerilee was reminded of the time Ditzy Doo had lent out one of her late husband’s old journals, full as it was of peculiar stories and  _drawings_  and there had been some that just seemed to cut right through you like you were as ephemeral as dust… Cheerilee realized that she was thinking in a run-on sentence, and firmly cut herself off with a mental stroke of red ink.

Rarity smiled. It might have been a nice smile, at one point, but it had since been refracted through a kaleidoscope. The unicorn’s pupils were pinpricks. “Why Miss Cheerilee!” she trilled. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you, and how are you today? And you, Macintosh?”

“Doing well, thank you,” Cheerilee answered.

“Eeyup,” Mac muttered, continuing to try shrinking behind the apple stall.

“Ahahahahahaha!” Rarity’s pleasant laughter was manic. Cheerilee began to regret saying anything at all.

“You know, it’s funny,” Rarity said, her voice like silk rubbing on amber. “I just stopped by Twilight’s castle to see Spike home, such a gentledrake, he kept Sweetie and I company during last night’s downpour. You’ll never guess who wound up staying the night at Twilight’s!”

Cheerilee cocked her head, and Macintosh stopped trying to become one with the apples. This was mainly due to the farmer’s fervent wish to be in the horseshoes of whomever Rarity was about to name.

The unicorn looked from face to face, a maniacal expression of twisted triumph on her features. “I’ll give you a clue,” she said. “She’s Great and Powerful.”

Cheerilee would swear that her heart stopped. “Trixie…”

Mac blinked laconically, but for once Cheerilee didn’t have time to translate. “I need to go,” she said shortly. “Goodbye Mac. Thank you, Rarity.” She trotted away. She would need to visit two houses, and quickly, before their children woke up…

Rarity smiled after the teacher before trotting away herself, tail and ears raised slightly higher in her moment of triumph. Mac frowned, brow creasing. Applejack would need to be informed at the earliest opportunity. Preferably  _not_  by somepony who would only make her reaction worse. Their eyes flickered over the market stalls. “Caramel!” he called. “Cover fer me!”

The yellowish stallion gave a brief nod, but Mac paid it no mind. They needed to get to Sweet Apple Acres, pronto.

***

Trixie had been dragged out from under the couch by her tail, kicking and flailing the entire time. Twilight had stepped in for a brief moment some five minutes ago, but after receiving a very long-suffering look from Spike, she left again. The dragon huffed. One major difference between dealing with Trixie and dealing with Twilight? Trixie was a heck of a lot more tenacious about holding on to things. Well. There was one good response to that. He lifted the entire couch into the air, unicorn and all, and exhaled a gout of green flame onto it.

The furnishing was consumed utterly, swirling into ash and dust and green sparks, which settled back on the floor and turned into a couch once more. Trixie suddenly became very aware that her hooves were no longer locked in a death grip around a wooden leg, and she fell silent. Spike held her up to his eye level, gripping her by the tail, her forehooves dangling two feet off the ground. She stared him square in the face, sullen and silent. “Okay. Let’s try this again,” he said firmly. “We’re going into town. Specifically, we’re going to Sugarcube Corner, partly because I doubt anypony will be happier to see you than Pinkie, and partly because I want doughnuts. Do you want doughnuts?”

Trixie hesitated. “...Perhaps,” she admitted.

That was good enough for Spike. “If I set you down, you have to promise you won’t try to hide again. Otherwise, I swear, I will carry you into town like this.”

“Trixie will behave.”

Spike let out a small sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good,” he said, letting her down gently. “You don’t need a plan of  _attack_  or whatever if you’re just trying to make friends.”

Trixie flinched, and Spike promptly regretted his choice of words. “Sorry. What I mean is, just be yourself.”

“Trixie once conquered this town and magically tormented its inhabitants for weeks.”

“You also kind of saved Equestria from Chrysalis. I think, on the whole, they balance out.”

Trixie said nothing, but Spike could tell that she was dubious. Curious, really. Her usual blustering self-confidence was cracked in several places. He could almost see through it. Curious indeed.


	5. Friends Will Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act II: In which Trixie attempts to endear herself to Ponyville, with partial success, but finds herself caught in a firestorm when a serial arsonist strikes the town.

The door swung open only about half a minute after Cheerilee rang the bell, revealing a kinkier-than-usual orange mane and a yellow muzzle that seemed, impossibly, to bear an expression that was more snarled than the orange locks. “We don’t want any,” Golden Harvest snapped, her eyes still half-shut.

“Good morning to you too,” Cheerilee replied, unfazed. She had long since grown used to the abrasive nature of the middle Carrot sibling.

Golden blinked muzzily. “Oh. ‘S you. What d’you want, it’s a Saturday.”

“I take it Snails is still asleep.”

“Yeah. Dead to the world. Why.”

Cheerilee breathed in and let it out slowly. “I’ve just heard from a reliable source that the Great and Powerful Trixie is back in town.”

The yellow mare stared at Cheerilee for a long moment, then pushed the door open. “In.”

The teacher carefully wiped her hooves on the mat before entering. Dirt was one of the very few things that Goldie wouldn’t give a pair of dingo’s kidneys about. However, it was about the only thing that the farmer’s husband actually did mind, and Cheerilee preferred to keep on the good side of her pupils’ parents.

The corridor was painted a pleasant raspberry shade. The carpeting was a lovely rust-orange. They clashed horribly. There was a series of slightly dark spots on the walls, fading vestiges of the photographs and mirror that had once hung there. They had come down not long after Snails had discovered that, like their namesake, they weren’t male or female, but rather both. Reminders of their old identity made them uncomfortable, and so down the old photos had come.

The kitchen was quiet. Any room that contained Written Script was quiet. It was less the cessation of noise, and more the absorbance of it. He was, as his name suggested, a playwright. Anything and everything that happened around him was considered fair game for his works. Considering that he lived in Ponyville, it was no surprise that his works were critically accused of being unbelievable. Equally unsurprising was the fact that he had a large and devout fanbase across Equestria. He glanced up as the two mares trotted in. “Code blue,” Golden said flatly.

Written nodded once, and set down his newspaper. Golden led the way into the room, Cheerilee trailing behind. The walls of the kitchen were a homey shade of cream yellow, with rustic wooden cabinets hung upon it and strings of garlic and herbs strung from the ceiling. The floor and counters were sleek and modern, blue and silver, tile and glass to the point at which someone in the kitchen might fear slipping and impaling themselves on an edge. The house was like the couple; contradictory to the point of violent clashing, but somehow managing to stay cohesive in spite of that. The only room that this was not true of was Snails’s. The foal was allowed carte blanche. Cheerilee had seen it once. It was quite dark and earthy, and it was filled with gastropods, but it was oddly pretty. It certainly fit its occupant.

Cheerilee took a seat on a slightly weather-beaten chair at the slick glass table. “Coffee?” Written Script asked in the thin, reedy voice of one who doesn’t often speak.

“Please,” said Cheerilee, accepting the proffered beaker gratefully. She took a long sip and closed her eyes.

“Ey!” Golden Harvest smacked the table with a hoof. “Focus, please. Trixie’s back in town, you said.”

“Yes,” Cheerilee replied, setting down the coffee.

“Where?” Written inquired.

“From what Rarity told me, she’s in the castle.”

Golden ground her teeth. “Stuck-up nag, thinks she’s better than she is…”

Written set a hoof on his wife’s withers. She relaxed slightly, but continued to glower at the table. Cheerilee took another sip of coffee. “I know that you have no love for her, but this visit is strictly as a warning. Don’t poke the bear.”

“Don’t poke the Ursa Minor, you mean,” Goldie retorted, scowling.

“Yes. Quite.” The teacher glanced away. Everypony knew that what had happened was scarcely Trixie’s fault, including those assembled in this kitchen. The Alicorn Amulet incident, though, had made more than a few ponies conveniently forget that all that Trixie had done was exaggerate her own abilities. Of course, given that she had later helped to save the princesses and elements and reform the changelings, Trixie was, to say the least, a controversial figure in Ponyville. “I can’t stress enough the fact that you should pretend to know nothing.”

Golden slammed on the table. “And why should we?” she demanded. “Why should we hide from that witch and her overinflated ego?”

Cheerilee didn’t even bat an eye. “Well, at least partially on the grounds that I don’t think either Carrot Top and the Bouquet sisters or the Cakes want to have to bail you out on assault charges yet again.”

The yellow mare scowled and sat back down sullenly. Written Script had already pulled out a quill pen and was frantically transcribing over the crossword puzzle. Neither mare paid him any mind. “I appreciate the advance notice,” Golden Harvest said after a long moment. “Is that all?”

“I think so, yes,” the teacher replied levelly. “I’ve passed on what I know. What you do with that information is no business of mine. Oh, but do remind Snails that there’s going to be a test on Monday over everything we’ve learned about the Skyzantine Empire.”

And on that note, she left the kitchen, leaving the coffee beaker on the table, steaming into the still air of the room. Written examined his notes. “Hm. Well, I can probably get a scene out of it.”

Goldie exhaled slowly. “Keep your notebook handy,” she muttered. “I think inspiration is about to strike. Hard.”

***

Trixie did not so much trot as walk, and she didn’t so much walk as slink, hiding as best she could in Spike’s shadow. Every now and again, she’d break away, but then she would see somepony that she’d treated especially poorly and practically leap back. She was so rattled that she didn’t even realize that she was only making herself stand out more. Ponies stopped and stared at the dragon and the magician, puzzled and in some cases, slightly indignant.

By the time the duo arrived at Sugarcube Corner, the Rumor Mill had received plenty of grist. “Mmm,” Pinkie gasped. “Love that Rumor Mill flour.”

Mr. Cake chuckled, taking the last of the bags from the cart. “Now, you tell Careless Whisper and Little Bird that we’re going to need a couple extra sacks next week,” he told the delivery boy.

“It’s for Celestia’s Big Birthday Bextravaganza!” Pinkie chirped, popping her head up close to the rather skittish delivery boy. “That’s like a Big Birthday  _Ex_ travaganza, but more alliterative!”

Mr. Cake sighed as the flour delivery colt scuttled backwards. “Pinkie, why don’t you go and watch the counter? I’ll just finish up in here.”

“Okie-dokie! See you later, Grapevine. The flour smells extra-super-duper yummy today!”

Grapevine stuttered and stammered as the pink mare trotted cheerfully towards the front room of Sugarcube Corner. She pushed open the double doors. “Hi, Mrs. Cake, Mr. Cake told me I should—” she cut off abruptly. The plump blue mare was staring straight at the door. So was everypony else. The frizzy-maned pastry chef cocked her head and turned toward the door as well. “Oh! Hi, Spike!”

Well, that couldn’t be why everypony was staring at the door. Mmmmaybe it could have been if they didn’t know it was Spike, or if he’d just had another great big growth spurt, or if he was wearing a flamingo costume and coconut bikini, but nope, it was just good old ordinary dragon-the-size-of-three-ponies Spike. Oh, and somepony trying to hide behind him. Pinkie squinted. Then she squinted a little more. Little more… stop! Gasp! Reel back in astonishment as mane grows even frizzier than before! “Trixie!”

The showmare recoiled as Pinkie vaulted over the counter, forehooves spread wide. Brief fantasies ran through Trixie’s head of attempted strangulation or decapitation. She certainly wasn’t expecting to get hugged half to death, though. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, you came back! Ooh, I never even really got to thank you for saving me and Twilight and Rainbow and the Princesses and everypony, well I guess Twilight is a princess too, and all of them are part of everypony, but I guess there are a lot of ponies that you didn’t save, but they weren’t in any trouble so you didn’t need to save them from the changelings! And I never even got to throw you a real party for being a new pony in Ponyville even though this is the fourth time you’ve been here! Ooh, ohh, that means I’ll have to throw you four times the normal party! Or a normal party four times! Are you going to be in Ponyville for long? Are you staying in Ponyville? Are you gonna live here?”

Trixie gasped as the party pony somehow managed to squeeze her even tighter. “How— are you— even related— to Marble— and Limestone?” she wheezed, her eyes positively bugging out of her head.

“Oh, well, when a Pie goes to visit the Choosing Stone and it selects for them a spouse—”

Trixie wheezed slightly louder. “NotwhatTrixiemeant! Can’tbreathe!”

“Oh. Oops,” Pinkie blushed and let the blue unicorn go. “But I am really happy to see you again!”

Trixie cocked her head. “...Why?”

Pinkie had been trotting back to climb behind the counter, but paused. “What do you mean?”

“...I stole your  _mouth_.”

“Oh! Well, that wasn’t really you, was it? It was that nasty glowy amulet.” Pinkie smiled. “Zecora told us  _aaaallll_ about it. Like, she said if  _I_  put it on, I’d probably try to throw the biggest party in the world or invent a glowy cloud that turned ponies into zombie clowns or make fun mandatory, except she said it all rhymey. It makes you all nasty and cold inside. So it really wasn’t your fault at all, just a meany-pants rock that whammied your superego and made you go all revenge-crazy. So, can I get you something?”

Mrs. Cake looked at her employee, then at the perplexed unicorn. She looked like she wanted to say something, but merely gnawed at her lower lip and trotted quickly into the kitchen. Trixie slowly made her way to the front of the shop, desperately trying to ignore all the stares. For once, the attention was stifling. She focused instead on all the treats that were on display. “Er… have you any beignets?” she asked.

Pinkie frowned. “Hm… nope, not today. But we do have powdered-sugar doughnuts!”

“Trixie will have one of those.” She hesitated. “Please.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie! What about you, Spikey?”

“The same, but with crushed peridot,” the dragon rumbled and  _how did he move so quietly._

“Coming right up! That’ll be four bits.”

Trixie reached for her purse, only to realize that it was probably back in her caravan. “Ah. Trixie appears to be slightly fiscally embarrassed…”

“My treat,” Spike said sliding over the bits.

“It isn’t as though Trixie is poor or anything,” the magician continued wretchedly. “She just got back from doing a very successful run of shows. She’s made more bits than she ever had in her life…”

Spike coughed. “Trixie, really. I’ll pay.”

“It’s just back in the wagon. Which sank in the mud,” Trixie continued. “Outside of town.” She stifled a sniff. “It’s fine. It will be fine. It will all be fine.”

“Look, I’ve got out my bit bag.”

Gently, Pinkie set out three doughnuts on the counter and patted Trixie’s hoof. “One on the house for a lousy night,” she said sympathetically. “Don’t worry about your wagon. Aunt Pinkie will make sure it’s all taken care of.”

Trixie stared down at the pink hoof in bewilderment, completely lost for words. Spike sighed. “Thanks, Pinkie,” he said in an affected voice. “The Great and Powerful Trixie accepts your kind gift with humility and grace.”

The party pony frowned slightly at him. “Spike,” she murmured. “Be nice. She needs it.”

Spike chuckled uncomfortably, watching his friend’s poofy mane slowly deteriorate like a deflating balloon. “Uh, yeah. Could’ve put that better, I guess. Sorry Trixie.”

A ghost of a smile traced Trixie’s lips. “Spot-on impression, though.”

Spike looked at Pinkie. The baker seemed not to be paying him any mind, though. She was too busy regarding Trixie with a deeply troubled expression. When the unicorn looked up again, though, Pinkie brightened immediately and patted the magician’s hoof. “I’ll see you at the party later. It’ll be great! And powerful!” She giggled.

Trixie’s mouth twitched down slightly, but only for a moment. It was hard to frown in front of this pink mare. “Trixie will be pleased to attend,” she replied.

Pinkie’s smile, if anything, grew wider, and Trixie pulled away. “Thank you for the doughnuts, Ms. Pie.”

“You’re very welcome,” the pink mare said with emphasis.

Trixie gave one last tight smile at the assembled, and then all but galloped out into the streets, doughnuts wrapped up in a napkin and clutched in her mouth.

Spike leaned in close to Pinkie. “Thanks,” he muttered. “She did need that, I guess.”

The party pony nodded. “You should always try to be nice to somepony trying to make friends,” she said with a short nod. “Being a meanie to a meanie just makes the first meanie more of a meanie, and then it just keeps getting worse and worse until you’re in a dystopian future full of robots and evil governments and war and a really annoying love triangle and NO BROWNIES at ALL!” She panted for several seconds before turning back to the kitchen. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Cake? Is it okay if I take a break to go to Sweet Apple Acres?”

“Sure, Pinkie,” Mr. Cake called back. “Just remember to pick up today’s supply of apples while you’re there.”

“Okie-dokie!” Pinkie hopped over the counter once again and pronked out the door. Spike, after a moment, lumbered after her, taking a thoughtful bite of his doughnut as he did so.

***

Cheerilee hesitated for a moment before knocking on the next door. There was but a short pause before it swung open. “Yes hellowhat?” Cheerilee took a step back. Even when she was properly braced, Sea Breeze could be more than a tad overwhelming. The pale pink pegasus barely ever even blinked, or if she did it was too fast to be seen by the naked eye.

“I’m here about Snips…” Cheerilee said slowly. She never knew why her voice slowed when speaking to Snips’s mother. Perhaps it was an attempt to balance out the conversation.

“Ohdear whathashedone thistime?”

“Snips hasn’t done anything, Breeze. May I come in?”

The pegasus bowed her head in assent, her tight bun of curly lilac mane bobbing, and allowed the teacher passage. The door led directly into the parlor. A good half-dozen lamps illuminated every corner of the room. The walls were yellow, and pictures of Snips and his sister, Zipporwhill, hung from all of them. There were no photos of Breeze herself. If asked why, she would simply reply, “Iknow what I looklike,” which made sense as long as you didn’t think about it. Perhaps more telling was the lack of photos of her ex-husband.

Cheerilee sat gingerly on a chair. It crinkled awkwardly. “Have you had the furniture… shrink-wrapped?”

“No I just covereditin plasticsheets. Forthedog. If I knew youwere coming I wouldhave removed them,” Breeze said shortly. “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” the earth mare assured her. “Is Snips still asleep?”

“Yes he is. Should I wakehim?”

“That won’t be necessary. In fact, please don’t. I needed to tell you that…” Cheerilee hesitated, regarding the other mare. “Trixie is back.”

There was a sound like a helium balloon deflating backwards as Sea Breeze gasped. “Whatwherewhenwhyhow?”

Cheerilee held up a hoof. “I’m telling this so that you’ll know to be on your guard. I’ve just come from Goldie’s, and she and Written have… agreed that Snails should be kept in the dark about this for now. Are you willing to—” she found herself cut off by Breeze’s frantic nodding. “Right. Well. Good.” Cheerilee said, pasting a smile onto her face. “I’ll keep you updated. And remind Snips that we’re going to have a test on the Skyzantine Empire Monday!”

“Ofcourse yes haveagoodday…” Breeze murmured, still shaken, waving the teacher off.

Neither mare noticed a little green muzzle poking over the balcony that overlooked the parlor. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is back?” Snips breathed. “Oh boy, wait until Snails hears this…”

***

Mac made their way quickly, but sedately, toward Sweet Apple Acres. They needed to be the one to break the news to AJ. Her attitudes toward Trixie were… well, variable. Much of the time, she was amicable enough to the idea of the showmare. Bygones were bygones, more or less. But on the other hoof, Applejack’s stubborn streak was wider than the ocean, and her competitive drive was nearly as deep. If the idea was introduced by an impartial party, such as a certain laconic elder sibling, there was no doubt that Applejack would warm to the idea with minimal fuss. ‘Course, if Rarity got to AJ first, that wouldn’t so much upset the applecart as it would knock down the barn. The thing could be done, and done easily, provided that there were no

“Hi, Mackie! Could you help me out real quick?”

distractions. Consarnit.

“Nope,” Mac said, picking up the pace.

Pinkie gasped and put her blue eye up to Mac’s green from her vantage point on the farmer’s back  _and how the gelding Tartarus had she gotten up there?_  “Whaaa? Mac, are you feeling okay?”

“Eeyup.”

“You aren’t sick, or hurt, or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Strong as ever?”

“Eeyup?”

“So you can help me!”

“Nope.”

Pinkie drooped. “Aw, come on, Macca-pac! It’ll only take half an hour!”

“Half ‘n hour?”

“Yes!”

“Nope.”

“Please? I’ll be your best-ever friend! I’ll bake you an apple-upside-down cake! I’ll, I’ll, do all your chores on the farm for a week!”

“Nope.” Cheerilee was already Mac’s best friend, nopony could beat Granny’s apple-upside-down cake, and work was cathartic. “S’pose y’all tell me what ya want me ta do.”

Pinkie brightened. “So you will help?”

“Ee...mebbee. Once Ah’ve finished up talking ta AJ.”

“Alright!” Pinkie bounced off of Mac’s back and pronked along beside them. “Agent Macintosh. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help me pull Trixie’s wagon out of the mud!”

“Huh.”

“So, will you do it?”

“Eeyup.”

“Yay!”

“ _After_  Ah’ve talked with AJ, Miz Pie.”

“Aw…” the pink mare deflated, her lower lip wobbling. “I  _really_  need this done, Mackie. And you’re the best pony for the job! I asked myself, Pinkie, who’s the strongest pony in all of Ponyville? And I answered, why it must be Big Macintosh!”

“Pinkie!” Mac stopped. “Ah gotta go talk ta AJ right now. It’s important. Ah’ll come by an’ help ya in ‘bout half an hour, alright?”

“Okie-doke, Mac!” Pinkie chirped, bouncing off. The workhorse sighed. They’d managed to reach Sweet Apple Acres over the course of that pointless chat. The house was in their sight now. Mac could reach it in under five minutes at a jog.

They started up the path, only to hear an explosive “SHE DID WHAT?” echo from up the path. Red ears flattened back into a ginger mane.

“Horseapples,” Mac groaned, before breaking into a gallop.

***

Trixie nibbled at one of the doughnuts as she trotted down Ponyville’s main drag. Her lips were liberally coated with powdered sugar. Spike walked behind and to the left of her, the only remains of his doughnut being the green crystal shards that dotted his lips. His eyes, clear and sharp as cut emeralds, flickered over the faces of passers by as they registered who it was who walked among them once more. Most merely stared for a moment, quickly returning to their duties when Spike met their eyes. Some others nodded, even waved to the showmare. Spike would gently nudge the blue mare in the side and point, and once she had snapped back to reality, she would wave back. Some saw the performer, and their faces turned to stone. A few even moved forwards to confront her, but shied back under the gimlet glare of the dragon behind her.

“So,” Spike said at length. “Where do you want to go now?”

“Hnh?” Trixie blinked eyes that were more glazed than any doughnut, and turned to face the dragon. “Repeat that, please?”

“Where should we go now?”

“Oh.” Trixie glanced around. “Trixie has seen enough of Ponyville for one day. She will go back to the castle now.”

Spike smiled, thin-lipped. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Not a chance. You’re gonna get reformed, like it or not, and it’ll be a lot easier for everyone if you rip off the bandage quickly. C’mon, who are we visiting next?”

Trixie curled her lower lip into a pout and said nothing. “Trixie…”

“Trixie is thinking!” the magician snapped. “Er—” she glanced around, then gestured to a pair of lilac pegasi crossing the road. “Them. Yes. Hail, citizens!”

Spike winced as Flitter and Cloudchaser glanced up. “Okay, little more straightforward than I was hoping…”

Cloudchaser was the first to recover. “Oh,” she said flatly. “So you really are back, then.”

“Yes! The GRRRREAT and RRREMORSEFUL TRIXIE has returned so as to make amends for her actions under the influence of the Alicorn Amulet!”

The spike-maned pegasus looked underwhelmed, but her sister smiled at the blue unicorn. “Well, that is very nice of you, Trixie,” Flitter said, “isn’t it, Cloudy?”

Cloudchaser said nothing. Flitter’s smile thinned like a middle-aged stallion’s mane. “Isn’t. It. Cloudy,” she repeated, nudging her sister forcefully in the ribs.

The white-maned mare merely shrugged. “Sure, yeah, fine, apology accepted or whatever, if that’s what you want.”

Trixie’s face clouded over. “Is Trixie’s apology insufficiently plausible for you? What must she do to prove herself to you?”

Flitter opened her mouth to deliver some kind of placation, but her sister beat her to it. “Nothing you can do,” Cloudchaser said, her eyes never leaving Trixie’s own. “It’s already done. You just keep coming back like a boomerang just to rut us over again. Taking over the town? Trying to screw up the Princess? What do you want here, Trixie? Why can’t you go wreck some other town?”

The unicorn took a step back, aura lighting up with a pink glow. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has no ulterior motives!” she said.  _Not anymore. Not right now. That should still count._

“I’m sure you don’t,” Flitter said, placing a wing on her sister’s withers. “I’m sorry about her. She’s never quite herself before she has her morning coffee. And she never drinks coffee.”

“It’s bean water!” Cloudchaser shouted, stomping a hoof. “You drink it with lactation from an entirely separate species! How am I the only one who sees how nasty that stuff is?”

Trixie blinked. “So… a tea drinker?”

“Are you out of your tiny mind? Leaf water? With the same cow lactation? That’s just as bad! I drink cocoa, and I’m proud of it.”

“Cocoa.”

“Yep.”

“Made with cocoa powder.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Trixie, don’t,” Flitter groaned.

“Cocoa powder which is made of cacao beans.”

“Uh-huh!” Cloudchaser paused. “Wait, what? No. Cocoa is made with chocolate.”

“Right, which is made from—”

“OKAY TIME TO GO THANKS FOR APOLOGIZING BYE.” Flitter led her sister away at speed, her wing almost in a chokehold around the other’s neck.

There was a long silence. “Well,” said Spike. “That went over like a lead balloon.”

Trixie let out a half-strangled moan and slammed to the ground. “Now may we go back to the castle?”

Spike gnawed at his lower lip. “We still have to run some errands for Twilight,” he said.

“Fine. You do that. Trixie needs to go crawl into a hole and expire.”

“Come on, you’re Twilight’s new number-three assistant,” Spike cajoled. “You’ll never move up if you don’t follow the list, and I don't think you wanna be subordinate to an owl forever.”

Trixie glanced at the dragon sidelong. “What list?”

Spike waved a sheet of paper at the unicorn. “This list. It’s today’s agenda, see?”

Trixie took the list and examined it. “Hm. Not that long. Three shops sounds tolerable.”

“Oh, sorry, forgot to unfold it.” Spike took one corner of the paper and peeled off a piece of sticky tape. The list promptly doubled. Then it doubled again. Again. Once more, with feeling. Before long, the paper was trailing on the ground, and Trixie’s pupils were pinpricks in a sea of wisteria.

“What the actual…”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, it’s honestly not as bad as it looks. Most of it’s just a series of nested subsidiary lists detailing what we need to buy, necessary qualities of the objects needed, vague details on social interactions, stuff like that.”

“What is this graph here?”

“Oh, that’s the inverse relationship between how far we can stray from Twilight’s exact specs and how much we spend,” Spike said, glancing over the list. “Come on, we’d better get started. First stop, the flower shop.”


	6. These are the Days of Our Lives

Whatever else could be said about the current situation, at least Mac didn’t have to run all the way up to the farmhouse to see Applejack. Their paths met about halfway along the trail. Mac, of course, was already a bit breathless, but one didn’t need to be Fetlock Holmes to see that the farmer was in rare form. Her green eyes were flashing like St. Elmo’s Fire. Her face was a shade of red that rivaled Mac’s own coat. If the elder Apple hadn’t known better, Mac would have sworn that steam was coming out of her ears. “Now, AJ,” Mac said, mustering their internal calm. “Don’t you go flyin’ off th’ handle…”

“Off th’ handle nothin’!” Applejack stormed. “Outta mah way, brother!”

Mac’s ears twitched back slightly, but they soldiered on regardless. “Applejack, Ah jes’ don’ wantcha ta do summat y’all’re gonna regret. Why don’tcha wait ‘til you got all the facts afore ya do anythin’?”

“Ah got all th’ facts Ah need,” she shot back, storming down the path again, leaving Mac desperately playing catch-up.

“Ah’m sure it ain’t as bad as Miz Rarity said…”

“Oh, so that’s how y’all found out,” Applejack said. “Ah got it from Fluttershy.”

Mac winced. Miz Shy didn't have the same animosity toward Trixie that Rarity did, but she apparently hadn't had the necessary calming effect on Applejack to keep her stable. “AJ, please, jes’ calm down. Ya don’ wanna start nothin’ like this.”

“She’s already started it an’ finished it both,” Applejack snapped. “Ah’m jes’ on clean-up, apparently.”

Mac struggled. “She saved ya from the changelings, ‘member?”

The orange mare drew to a halt, her brow cinched. “...Come again? Mac, Ah dunno what y’all’re on. Bloom didn’t have nothin’ ta do with any changelings.”

Mac stopped. “Bloom?”

“Yes, Bloom, ya plumb eejit! Our sister? The one what jes managed ta crash an ol’ cart into town hall tryin’a drag race with Scootaloo? That Bloom?”

“Oh.” Mac was quiet for a long moment.

Applejack sighed, suddenly weary. “What else should Ah know about?”

Mac hummed and glanced away.  _Mebbe it woulda been better fer Rarity ta tell her after all…_

***

Mr. Cake whistled to himself as he pulled out the day’s first batch of treble-chocolate fudge brownies out of the oven, and slipped in a batter-filled bundt cake pan. Over on the counter, his wife was slicing strawberries for a three-layer shortcake. Outwardly, she looked fine, for the most part. There were subtle clues, though, which betrayed her inner concern; the slight shake of her hoof as she cut the strawberries into not-quite regular slices, the force with which the knife cut into the board beneath it, the ongoing angry rant against the background, principles, temerity, and parentage of that blue magician, the rhythmic kicking of a hind hoof against the stool.

After nearly fourteen years of marriage, you tend to notice these sorts of faint signs. Mr. Cake studied his darling snickerdoodle for a long moment, cookie sheet still held in his mouth. One had to be very careful when defusing Cup Cake while she was in a bad mood, he reflected as he set the sheet on the counter. Pinkie had demonstrated that several times, the hard way. Cup was as sweet as anything in the shop while in a good mood, but in a rage, she’d bite your head off like it was gingerbread.

“Dumpling?”

“Yes?” She glanced up. Carrot Cake froze. He had not planned quite this far ahead.

“Er. Have we made those rainbow cupcakes yet?”

The blue mare relaxed slightly. “Oh, the ones that Pinkie wanted made for Rainbow Dash? No, I don’t think so. Why did she want them again?”

“Something to do with an Awesome-versary, I believe. I’ll make the batter if you’ll do the cloud icing.”

Cup smiled. “Alright, as soon as I’ve finished with the shortcake.” She returned to slicing strawberries, though much more slowly. She sighed, suddenly, setting down the knife. “Do you think I’ve been overreacting to this whole… Trixie situation?”

Carrot hummed, not meeting his wife’s eyes. “I think we should at least give her a chance,” he said. “Ponies do change, after all.”

The blue baker sighed, setting the knife down on the cutting board. “I suppose you’re right,” she said mournfully. “It’s just, I worry, Carrot. You know I do.”

Carrot nodded. He did indeed know. Cup Cake was a worrier, and always had been. It had only gotten worse since the twins had been born. He felt guilty about that; artificial insemination had been the only possibility for them, given his condition. Though both bakers loved their children dearly, he knew that on some level, Cup had found the whole thing unnatural. She had never said anything, but he knew it was true.

In many ways, Carrot Cake was more of a worrier than his wife ever had been.

“I don’t think she’s going to try to take over Ponyville again, crumpet.”

“No,” Cup sighed fretfully. “Neither do I. But that isn’t the point.”

The lanky stallion paused. There was a faint whining sound in the air. He ignored it. “Isn’t it?”

“No!” the thickset blue mare rose from her stool and began to pace the kitchen. “I don’t think she means to do it, the poor dear. It just happens around her.”

Carrot frowned. “What does?”

His wife spun around to face him. “Chaos! Mayhem and destruction follow in her wake. The ursa wasn’t her fault, not directly. From what I’ve heard, she was made queen of the diamond dogs, once, and that she was nearly implicated in a jewel theft in Manehattan, neither time because of anything she did. Not directly, anyway. But it’s the life she lives! All flash and dazzle and no substance to her. She’s a loose firework, Carrot, and you mark my words. She’s going to bring this town nothing but destruction.”

As though punctuating her remark, the oven took the opportunity to explode.

***

Spike and Trixie stood alone among the flowers. “Well,” said Spike. “At least she isn’t still mad at you.”

“Yes,” Trixie replied dully. “Because Trixie’s very presence sending mares running away screaming is by far the better option.”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, that’s just Lily for you. I’ve seen her run away screaming from things that are way less scary than you."

(An incomplete list of things from which Spike has seen Lily run away screaming: A stampede of rabbits, a cloud of dust, a patch of dandelions, personal intimacy, her own shadow, a frog, a pair of scissors, trigonometry, a peanut-butter sandwich, a balloon, a broom, a red rubber ball, and a certain purple-and-green drake.)

"It’s just the way she is.”

The magician groaned and didn’t so much sit as fall down on her backside. “Regardless. Let us tally up exactly how today has gone. Trixie has silenced a bakery, argued with a pair of pegasi, and made a mare  _run away_.  _Screaming_. This is not the sign of a good apology tour, in Trixie’s opinion! What is to come next, panic in the streets? Physical violence? Assassination?”

Spike leaned against a wall. “Trixie, I think it’s just about possible that you’re overreacting.”

He was going to say more, but the explosion cut him off. Trixie shot the dragon a glare. “Overreacting indeed,” she muttered as screams began to leak into the flower shop.

Spike didn’t hear her. He was too busy peering out of the flower shop’s big storefront window. A plume of smoke could plainly be seen invading the sky over Ponyville. “Rut me, I think that’s Sugarcube Corner!”

Trixie leapt to her hind hooves. “Then onwards! We must offer our aid!” She realized that Spike was already racing down the street, and quickly she galloped after him.

***

Rainbow Dash jerked awake with a snort. Typical, She’d just drifted off for her first morning nap after finishing her first shift of cloud arranging, and what happened?

Wait. What had happened? She peered around her napping cloud. No interfering birds or prankster pegasi. Nothing directly below her, nor above her. Hm. She turned to Ponyville proper. Massive crystal castle, yep, fine. Loads of apple trees, okay, good. Houses standing, pillar of rising smoke, giant wedding-cake clothes shop, yep. Wait. Middle thing again. Houses standing? No, after that. Pillar of rising smoke. Yes, that was it.

The cyan pegasus stared at the grey cloud of ash for a long second, scowling at it for wrecking her nap. Then, something clicked. “Holy horseapples! Fire! Fire!”

She positively dove off the cloud, mind clicking from zero to sixty in moments. Ponies thought she wasn’t exactly the brightest candle in the… candle holder thingy, and they weren’t entirely wrong. Dash would freely admit that, if given a test over basic algebra, about the best thing that she could be expected to return was a paper glider. But damned if it wouldn’t be the best paper glider in the history of folding paper! Before her hooves finished leaving the cloud, she had already drawn up a map of the day’s weather schedule in her head. Before her wings beat the air for the first time, she had selected the rainiest areas for five miles around Ponyville. Before they beat the air again, she had worked out what weather teams would be closest, and before three seconds were up, she had worked out exactly where she needed to go.

The wind she generated whipped leaves off of trees and frisbees off of roofs. The ground beneath her blurred into green and tan, and mentally she ticked off the miles left to travel. “Blossomforth! Orion! Pull tail over to Sugarcube Corner!” she bawled as she barreled past. “Take all the cloud you can!”

Not even stopping to see if they had heard, Dash spun around, slicing out a hunk of cloud and pushing it off from the main body, flapping frantically back towards town center. She had to go much slower this way, else the cloudstuff would break down, but she pressed as close to top speed as she could go. This had the effect of a considerably more sedate and less blurred view of the ground. If one were to look, they might even be able to see blurs of color that could possibly have been ponies. On the off-chance that one such pony was running along the same path beneath the pegasus, they might even be identifiable. Rainbow squinted down below her, counting the side streets as they swung by. Blue unicorn. Running. Running faster? Than her? RUNNING? Not fast enough. Go faster! Faster!

The wind roared as Dash redoubled her efforts, pouring more power both into her wings and into the cloud, solidifying the shape further. She stopped on a dime, letting the cloud carry forward without her as she abruptly turned around, flew back the way she had just come, spun around again, and flew straight into that cloud, busting it for all she was worth.

There was an almighty rumble of thunder, and then a deluge poured forth right over Sugarcube Corner. Rainbow breathed a sigh of relief as the smoke began to clear, her face relaxing into a smile. One which promptly evaporated when she stopped, at long last, to look at the world around her. “Horseapples.”

***

By the time Spike and Trixie arrived on the scene, Sugarcube Corner’s back half was a smoldering wreck. Several ponies were lying on the ground, coughing violently. Nurse Redheart was busy with another three paramedics loading Mr. and Mrs. Cake onto stretchers, both alive but badly injured. “Ce-LES-tia,” Spike said, staring at the wreckage. “What happened here?”

Twist looked up from where she was trying to wipe soot off her glasses. “I gueth you could thay…” she pushed the still-dark glasses up her snout. “Buithineth ith booming.”

“YEAH!” Snowflake agreed, tiny wings fluttering as Twist took off her glasses again and spat on the lenses.

Dash, meanwhile, had flown down from above to hover over the newcomers. “Huh. Heard you were back in town, Trixie. Uh.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Hi? Anyway, Spike, we’re gonna need your help. The building might still be a little on fire, and we really don’t wanna wait to find any more victims any longer than we gotta. You think you could…”

Spike nodded. “Sure, Dash. I’ll just go in through the front. Not sure I like the looks of the new entrance.”

“Heh, yeah. You go on in, we’ll keep ya covered from out here.”

Spike nodded and jogged quickly toward the bakery’s front door.

Dash glanced sidelong at Trixie. “Back, huh?”

“For now,” the magician said, guarded.

“Hm.” Dash glanced back toward the bakery, lips pursed tight. “Thanks.”

Trixie blinked. “Eh?”

“For the save with the changelings. Never got to say it before you ran off. So, thanks. You’re alright.”

The unicorn opened her mouth, then closed it. “You are welcome,” she said. “Trixie appreciates your forgiveness.”

“Did I  _say_  I forgave you?” Dash demanded, raising a brow. “I’m still kinda pissed at you for the other stuff you pulled. But you aren’t as bad as I thought you were.”

“Oh.” Trixie deflated slightly.

“Why did you come back, anyway?” Dash asked, not once looking away from the bakery.

“Trixie would prefer not to say. She has been offered rooms and employment with Sp— Twilight.”

“Oh, you’re one of the ‘reformation’ guys. Alright!” Dash nodded, finally glancing at the unicorn. “Cool. Good luck with that.”

“Trixie does not need luck!” the magician paused for a long moment. “But Trixie accepts your good wishes in the spirit in which they were given.”

Dash glanced at the unicorn again, slightly more calculating this time. “Well, I guess you’re a step ahead of Starlight, anyway,” she mused. “Took her weeks to start catching herself like that.”

Trixie frowned slightly at that. “Trixie thought Starlight did very well for herself.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dash agreed. “But it took her, like, forever to realize that you really shouldn’t solve all your problems with mind control, y’know?”

“Trixie supposes so. But when all one has is a match, everything starts to look like a firework.”

Dash nodded at that. “I get that. So. I guess we're going to be friends now.”

Trixie blinked. “... Oh?”

“Way of the world,” Dash said. “Fish gotta swim, pegasi gotta fly, Ponyville gotta befriend the latest reforming magical superweapon.”

“Trixie is not sure about that descriptor,” the mare said, shifting slightly awkwardly. “She is super, yes, but not exactly a… weapon.”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” said Dash, glancing back at the ruined bakery. “Man. I loved this place,” she said, disappointed. “Pinkie’s gonna freak out when she sees this, and not in a happy ‘let's party’ way.”

“Hm,” Trixie said, scratching her mane. “Ah. Well. It can be rebuilt, can it not?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dash agreed. “Like, the town’s restoration budget is crazy good. I think the Princesses actually donate a ton of money every year for fixing stuff.”

“Why?”

The pegasus shrugged. “I dunno. Ponyville has a lot of accidents. Like, y'know,  _Ursa Minor attacks_. We're literally at the border of the Everfree. Sugarcube Corner will be open for business again in maybe a week, but Pinkie’s gonna be homeless until then.”

Trixie brightened. “Pinkie can borrow Trixie’s wagon! She already promised to get it unstuck from the mud, and this will be an appropriate repayment for her deed!”

Dash stared. “Uh, or she could crash at Twilight’s massive castle.”

“Oh. Yes.” Trixie slumped, and Dash winced.

“Uh, good thought, though. You're on the right track!”

Suddenly, a wailing cut through the air. Trixie glanced around. “What is that, a baby? Two babies?”

Dash went very still. “Did anypony get Pumpkin and Pound?” she demanded, wheeling on the crowd of bakery customers.

A chorus of denials and excuses met her. The pegasus muttered a cuss, then turned to the building, only to see Spike walking out the door again. “All clear on the ground,” he called.

Dash waved a hoof. “The twins are upstairs! Go get them down!”

The dragon's blank, horrified stare filled Trixie with concern. “The stairs are out!”

Dash cussed again, louder this time. A mare with a fan cutie mark gasped and covered the ears of the nearest foal. “Hey! Get off me, Hay Code!” Rumble growled, pushing away her hoof.

The prismatic pegasus paid them no heed. “Okay,” she muttered. “The twins’ room is… there, so I can get in through that window.” She beat her wings once, twice, only to see a powder blue shape running through the door of the bakery. “Trixie, what the HAY are you doing?”

The fan-marked mare glowered at Dash in silent fury. “I hope you know that sort of language will get you a censure,” she said primly.

The pegasus made a gesture that suggested exactly what Hay Code could do with her censure, then zoomed up to the window, and prepared to buck it in.

***

The front room of the bakery had been only lightly charred, but the acrid stink of smoke hung in the air, mixing with the smell of wheat and sugar to create the sickly-sweet stink of a terminally burnt cake. Trixie galloped past the tables and leapt over the counter, stumbling on the landing, then pushing through the ashen doors to the kitchen. It was a blackened, blasted place. Great scraps of metal littered the ground, along with pieces of what once might have been a laminate counter. Twisted utensils were strewn everywhere, and Trixie picked her way carefully over them. She dared not use magic to clear away the mess. She would need every drop to pull off her next amazing feat. Of course, nopony would see most of it. Perhaps she could wait for more of a crowd to arrive…

No. That was amulet-talk, plain and simple. She was beyond that now. She had trained and improved on her own merits, not indentured to some cheap piece of tawdry tat’s twisted trickery. She was most of the way across the kitchen. Oh, that was a rather large puddle of blood there. She stiffened her resolve and continued to step lightly towards the stairwell.

The smell of smoke pervaded the air, irritating her nostrils. She sneezed once, twice. Good. She ought to have enough time between sneezes to focus on the task ahead. She gazed up at the second floor, now a balcony overhead, gauging the distance in her mind. Trixie closed her eyes, horn flaring as she focused. There was a subtle pop, followed by the sensation of being drunk. Through a straw.

When she opened her eyes once more, she stood perched on the edge of the ledge. It shifted beneath her weight, and she quickly scampered to a more secure-looking section of the floor to catch her breath and regain her bearings-- too much magic left her feeling more than slightly giddy. The ledge slowly crumbled away behind her, so she moved swiftly towards the twin siren wails. The further she trotted along, the more stable the floor became. Nevertheless, she didn’t slow her pace as she hurried along to a door left ajar, even as she heard the sound of glass shattering from a room nearby.

On the other side, a childish paradise; blocks and toys lain mostly in their chest, thick shag carpeting in a bright, spring-green shade and walls painted a sky blue. A crib sat against the wall, and inside, a pair of tiny ponies, one pegasus and one unicorn, both wailing their little hearts out.

“Hey now,” Trixie cooed. “Who’s a good baby? You are-- Trixie means is. You both is, using the plural you…”

The pegasus stopped wailing to look at her with confusion, but the unicorn didn’t let up. Trixie let out a huff. “Trixie really wishes she had her hat right now. Bunnies make babies stop crying, right?”

“A-boom!” said the pegasus.

“Yes, an extremely loud ka-boom,” Trixie murmured, only half listening. Then she blinked as an idea sprung to the forefront of her mind. “Well, why not?”

She lit her horn again and leaned over the crib. Tiny, silent fireworks sprouted in midair above the crib, little flashes of light. The unicorn fell silent as she and her brother stared up at the show in wonder. The magician smirked. “Okay. Now, who wants a pony ride?” she asked.

“Trixie!”

The magician turned. “Ah, Rainbow. Trixie has the situation well in hoof,” she said, levitating the twins onto her back. “She appreciates your speed in helping, however. That is correct, is it not?”

“What the Tartar--” Dash glanced at the twins, who were now cheerfully gumming Trixie’s mane. “-- sauce are you doing, Trixie?”

“Rescuing a pair of infants. Obviously,” the unicorn replied, opening the window and crawling out onto the gabled roof overlooking the ground far below.

“Trixie,” Dash said. “You can’t fly! Let me take the twins, I’ll get all three of you to safety.”

“If Trixie cannot fly, explain how she got upstairs when there are no stairs to climb,” the unicorn replied.

“I-- you--  _what_?” Dash sputtered.

“Trixie will handle things from here,” she said, tucking a baby under each forehoof. Then, she jumped, lighting her horn as she went. She heard Dash cry out for the barest instant, the sound dopplering away as she teleported.

Her hooves met the turf at a faster clip than she had first supposed; her teleport had occurred later than she had hoped. Still, she planted her hind hooves, and remained bipedal for long enough for the shocked crowd to recover. Moments later, the twins were snatched from her hooves by a polychromic blur. “What the  _rut_ ,” Rainbow Dash snarled.

Hay Code let out a gasp and swayed on her hooves, but nopony paid her any mind. They were too busy watching the pair of blue mares staring each other down. “Trixie does not know of what you are speaking,” the unicorn sniffed. “She heard children in danger, so she went to rescue them, as did you. Trixie merely happened to do so more efficiently.”

There were a few murmurs of approval from the crowd, but Dash was undeterred. “How, by putting them in  _more_  danger? You could’ve sent all three of you smashing to the ground!”

“Well, Trixie didn’t!” the magician said, somewhat hotly. “Trixie can pull off a couple of teleports easily enough.” There was probably a point at which a pony ought to stop. Some small part of Trixie recognized this as exactly that spot. The momentum of temper and magical exhaustion, however, pushed her over the edge. “Trixie thinks you’re just jealous that she rescued them first!”

Spike, who had been making his way over, faceclawed and picked up the pace.

“Jealous?” Dash asked, incredulous. “Of you? Oh, yeah.  _Totally_  jealous of some two-bit magician with--”

“Dash,” Spike said from just behind the pegasus.

“No, no,” Trixie said, waving the dragon back without removing her increasingly blurry gaze from the pegasus. “Let her finish.”

Dash glowered. “You’re a liar, Trixie, and a fake. You keep giving us new reasons to not trust you, but Twilight keeps giving you chance after chance, but Tartarus if I know why! You’re just a, a total--”

A dog barked in the distance. Cranky Doodle and Matilda both flushed. “Well I never,” said the former, while the latter sat down in embarrassment. Hay Code fainted dead away. Spike scowled. “Rainbow!”

Trixie’s mouth hung agape, but Dash wasn’t done yet. “Heck, for all we know, maybe you blew up Sugarcube Corner, just so you could play hero!” she shouted.

“Rainbow Dash!” Spike roared, traces of fire lighting the air. “Too far!”

Trixie blinked. She was too woozy and exhausted from the excess of magic to fully register what was going on. The world began to fade into bright blobs of color and sound. “She was with me the whole time!” purple and green said.

Mostly-blue cowered. “Okay, okay, but can you blame me for maybe not trusting her?”

“Yes. I can, and I am. She’s really trying to-- Trixie?  _Trixie?_ Trixie, are y ou a l r i g h t ?


	7. Hammer to Fall

Trixie’s eyelids fluttered open. She stared up at the ceiling, failing for a long moment to register what it was that she was seeing. Then, her eyes focused on the crystalline pattern overhead, and her memories flooded back. She sat up, ignoring the thumping soreness below the base of her horn. “Overegged it,” she groaned, if only to herself.

She was rather surprised to hear a response. “Yes, you did.”

The unicorn spun around, wincing at the slight, stabbing pain. Her vision swum slightly, and a white mare with a pink mane and a medical uniform slowly resolved herself. Trixie grinned weakly. “Hello, nurse,” she said.

The mare gave a strained smile in reply. “Miss Lulamoon. I’m Nurse Redheart. How are you feeling?”

Trixie thought about it. “Trixie feels like someone was trying to hammer her horn flat against her head.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Twilight’s castle.”

“What’s the last thing you can remember?”

Trixie’s smile slid from her face. “Being accused of arson.”

The nurse grimaced in faint sympathy. “Yes. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe anypony considers you to be a viable suspect.”

“Oh, good,” Trixie said, her voice flat. “At least only  _uninformed_  accusations are being leveled against Trixie.” She fell back on her bed. “How long has Trixie been unconscious?”

“A little less than four hours,” Redheart replied. “We were beginning to grow concerned. That said, you should recover fully fairly soon. Dinner and a good night’s sleep should be enough to get you back to normal mana levels, although some painkillers might not be a bad idea either. I can write you a prescription--”

Trixie heaved herself out of bed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has felt worse,” she said simply, taking the blanket from the bed and draping it around herself like a cloak. She hesitated. “But thank you for offering.”

Redheart blinked. “Only doing my job, miss.”

“Trixie is attempting to develop better habits,” the unicorn replied succinctly. “Now, Trixie believes that lunch sounds like an idea worth pursuing, so she will bid you farewell. Unless you would like to dine with her…?”

“No, I should be getting back to the hospital,” Redheart replied. “But, ah, thank  _you_  for the offer.”

“Very well. Trixie will see you later, nurse,” the unicorn said sweeping to the door. At the threshold, she paused and glanced back, eyelids half-lowered. “Hopefully, under better circumstances.”

Redheart blinked and the other mare was gone. A slow smile spread over the mare’s face. She hadn’t been flirted at like that for months now. The strange and alluring mare might be just the thing to take her mind off of the unpleasant mundanity of hospital life…

Trixie poked her head back in, interrupting Redheart’s reverie. “Um, how can one get to the dining hall from here?”

Redheart chuckled. “Follow me,” she said, trotting past the magician and down the hall. And if she swished her tail a tad as she went, well, she hadn’t had a date in over a year, and will thank you not to judge her.

***

Redheart and Trixie had parted ways just outside the dining room with minimal awkwardness. The illusionist watched the pretty nurse round the corner, hoping that she would turn and give a last wink. It didn’t come. Shame, she really was quite pretty, and Trixie could do with a few more medical professionals in her life. She pushed open the door. A moment later, she was sent sprawling out again, courtesy of a cannonball made of pink fluff. No, it was just Pinkie Pie. “TRIXIE!” she screamed.

The blue mare shrieked and threw up her hooves. “Please don’t kill Trixie! She will give you her lunch money!”

Pinkie cocked her head. “ _Kill_  you? Where did you get that idea from, silly? I just wanted to thank you for saving Pound and Pumpkin!”

Trixie stared up at her mutely. “The Cake twins,” Pinkie expounded.

“Ah, the infants,” Trixie nodded. “Yes. Forgive Trixie for being a tad slow, she is not used to having these sorts of conversations with a mare standing atop her.”

“Oh, well, you can get used to anything eventually,” Pinkie said breezily, as she made no move to get off.

After a long moment of silence, Trixie coughed. “You are not angry with Trixie, then?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Should Pinkie be?”

“Rainbow Dash accused Trixie of being the culprit behind the explosion,” Trixie expounded.

“Was Trixie to blame?” Pinkie asked.

“Of course not!” Trixie said indignantly. “She is as fond of explosives as the next mare, more so, even, but she would never do something so phenomenally idiotic! Particularly not if it would endanger children.”

“Well, Pinkie believes Trixie,” Pinkie said with a short nod. “Pinkie thinks that trust is an important part of friendship.”

“Pinkie?”

“Yes, Trixie?”

“Don’t steal Trixie’s schtick.”

“Sorry.” Pinkie removed herself from the prone magician, who drew herself back up with as much dignity as she could muster.

“You’re in good spirits,” Trixie observed as she accompanied the other mare into the dining hall. “For somepony who’s just lost their home, Trixie means.”

Pinkie’s smile faded. “Yeah…” she sighed. “Mr. and Mrs. Cake are still unconscious in the hospital, and Sugarcube Corner is, well, toast. But they’ll recover, and we’ll all rebuild. I dunno what would’ve happened if something had happened to the twins.”

Trixie coughed. “Yes, er. The Great and Powerful Trixie… all in a day’s work,” she stammered.

“Really, now.” Trixie froze and turned.

Standing on the wall was a trio of mares. The orange hick-- no, bad Trixie. Farmer. Quiet yellow one, and Sparkle, who looked slightly nervous. There was another, as well, a stallion. Big and red, and considerably more nervous than anypony else in the room. Trixie racked her brains for who he might be, but she tended not to have as good a memory for stallions. “Greetings,” Trixie said cautiously. It was usually a safe opening gambit.

Orange Apple Horse… Jack! Apple Jack, that was it! Had just finished saying something that Trixie hadn’t heard because she was too busy congratulating herself on remembering the other mare’s name. “Well?” Applejack demanded.

Trixie blinked. “Could you repeat the question?”

The orange mare glared. “Ah said, what d’ya want fer lunch? Pardner?”

“Oh.” Trixie scratched her head. “What have you got?”

Applejack relaxed somewhat, but only marginally. “Well! We got us some apple fritters, apple scrumpy, apple flapjacks, apple pie, apple cake, apple spaghetti, apple upside-down cake, apple souffle, lettuce-apple salad, spinach-apple salad, kale-apple salad, apple-apple salad, apple sandwiches, apple stew, roast apple with all th’ trimmins, hard-boiled eggs, applesauce, appleburgers, apple pizza, and apple surprise.”

“Trixie will take the eggs. And what exactly is apple surprise?”

“All Ah’ll say is that it was Pinkie’s idear, an’ that’s all y’all’ll find out ‘less ya ask fer it.”

“Very well. Trixie will have the apple surprise also.”

“Right. Mac, with me.”

The stallion-- Mac, apparently-- fell in line with his… sister? Probably sister. Or wife. Or both. No,  _bad_  Trixie! Anyway, they both set off for what was presumably the kitchens. Pinkie bounced along behind them. As the unicorn watched them go, the other two mares trotted over to her. “Sorry about that,” Twilight said, sheepish. “She’s just not sure what to think of you, yet. Don’t worry, though, she’ll come around. When Applejack argues with herself, you can always count on her to come out on top.”

Trixie considered pointing out the fallacy in that statement, but decided that would not be a desirable path to go down. Instead, she turned to the other mare. “And what do you think…” she glanced at the mare’s flank. “Butterfly?”

“Fluttershy,” Twilight corrected.

“Oh.” Trixie rubbed behind her ear. “Um, Fluttershy, are you so conflicted?”

Fluttershy hesitated. “Well, um, no. I… I think… I know that you saved us from Queen Chrysalis, and, um, you saved the twins at Sugarcube Corner. You’ve made some mistakes, but, um, you feel bad about them, don’t you?”

Trixie nodded. Fluttershy smiled gently. “That’s the important thing. Don’t worry about Dashie and Applejack. They’ll come around.”

“And Rarity,” Twilight added. Then she hesitated. “Well, Rarity might take awhile longer.”

“Don’t worry about Rarity,” a male voice rumbled. Trixie jumped.

“Sweet  _Luna_ , how do you move so quietly?” she shouted, glaring at the gigantic dragon.

Spike smirked at her. “The Stealthy and Cunning Spike has skills.”

Trixie growled. “As Trixie told Pinkie, that is  _Trixie’s_  schtick. Leave it alone.”

The dragon’s smirk melted into a smile. “Yeah, alright. You did good back there, Trixie.”

Trixie huffed. “Not good enough, it seems.”

“Ah, don’t worry about Dash, either. She tends not to think stuff through that well before yelling it out.”

“Please. Trixie knows from experience just how effective that method of communication can be,” the magician snarked. “There’ll be a mob set to run me out of town before the week is out.”

Twilight frowned. “Come on, Trixie. Ponyville isn’t like that.”

“Yeah, well, half of the visits Trixie has made here ended with her running for the hills like a hunted dog. You’ll excuse Trixie for not having the best view of this burgh.”

“Well, you won’t be forced to leave as long as I’m around,” Twilight said firmly. “You’re my guest, and you can stay here for as long as you need, pitchfork-wielding mob or no.”

Trixie let a smile trace her face. “Trixie appreciates the sentiment,” she sighed. “But it is not necessary. As soon as Trixie is recovered, she will be heading to Canterlot.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “But why--”

“When one has managed to rescue not one, but two babies from a burning building and get yelled at for one’s trouble, one begins to wonder if one’s attempts to do right are worth it.” Trixie turned away from the princess’s wide, hurt eyes. “Trixie came here to find Starlight. Once her wagon is removed from the mud, she will leave. For good, this time.”

***

Redheart trotted down the hospital halls, humming softly to herself. Her smile quickly faded, though, when she turned a corner and ran smack into a veritable wall of ponies. “What on good green Gaea?” she sputtered, pushing through the mob. “Medical professional coming through! Clear the way!”

Some effort was made on the part of the mob to make a sufficient path for Redheart to walk through, but it was excruciatingly slow going. Suddenly, she felt a hoof wrap around hers, and she turned to see Dr. Horace Stable, the hospital’s chief administrator, right behind her, horn glowing. “Brace yourself,” he said. In a flash, they had both teleported into a much emptier room.

“Horace, what in the name of Luna is going on out there?” she demanded.

Dr. Stable sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. “You know, of course, that Mr. and Mrs. Cake have been hospitalized following the explosion.”

Redheart frowned. “Are you saying all those ponies are well-wishers?” she asked. “I know they’re well-liked, but this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is the word for it, Red,” Dr. Stable replied grimly, replacing his spectacles. “I’m sure there are legitimate visitors out there somewhere, but most of them are just here to gawk and gossip. You heard they’re blaming Trixie for it?”

“Outrageous,” Redheart replied shortly. “I just got back from treating her at the castle. I very much doubt that she would have or could have done anything like this.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I can’t say I much care either way. What I  _do_  care about is the efficient running of this hospital, and these crowds have made that altogether impossible.”

“Alright. What do you want me to do?”

“I was hoping you might have a suggestion,” Dr. Stable replied glumly. “All I’ve been able to come up with is pulling the fire alarm.”

Redheart frowned. “I don’t suppose we’ve tried asking them to go away.”

“Do you really think that asking politely will get us anywhere?”

“Who said anything about ‘politely’?”

***

Carrot Top growled as she tried to shove her way through the mob of visitors. “Out of my way!” she bellowed. “I’m  _family_ , let me through!”

Written Script and Snails trailed along in her wake until all three came to a barricade. It had been crudely cobbled from cots and gurneys, all tied together with gauze bandages. Carrot scowled at it and bashed a hoof against the wall. “Let me in! My brother’s in there!” she shouted.

Nurse Sweetheart peered out from over the top. “I’m sorry, dearie, but there’s a three-visitor limit,” she shouted over the crowd’s babble. “And Golden Harvest and Daisy are already inside. You can come in if you like, but only you.”

Carrot hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder at her husband and foal. Written waved a hoof for her to go on ahead, they would be fine. She scowled, but walked through the hole in the barricade that the nurses had just opened.

“Hey! Snails! Buddy!”

Snails glanced around. Through the swarm of tramping hooves, they could just about see the face of their best friend in the world, Snips. Snails glanced up. “Hey, dad, can I go an’ talk with Snips?”

Written glanced over at the green colt, then nodded. “Great! See you later!”

Snails pushed through the crowd. Their skinny, gangly form was just right for skirting around pushy ponies, and they had soon made it to the other side of the hallway. “What’s up, Snips?”

Before the other unicorn could reply, Snails found that their hooves were no longer touching the ground, and all the air was slipping out of their lungs. “OhSnails Iwassosorrytohearbout youruncle! Wecameassoonasweheard! Areyoualright? IsthereanythingIcando?”

Snails let out a faint wheeze. Zipporwhill sighed. “Mom, I don’t think they can breathe.”

Sea Breeze gasped and clutched the foal tigher. “Ohno! WhatcanIdo? Doctor, doctor, helpusplease!”

“Ma, put them down,” Snips said.

Almost immediately, the pegasus released her grip, sending Snails sprawling to the floor and gasping for oxygen. “Why don’t you go ask Mr. Script if there’s anything you can do, mom?” Zipporwhill suggested. “He’s right over there.”

“Whatagoodidea! Youkidsjuststaysafenow.”

In a flash, she was on the other side of the hall, hovering right next to Written’s alarmed face, chattering away like billy-o. Zipporwhill gave Snails a sympathetic look. “Are you okay, though?” she asked.

Snails shrugged. “Eh, they’ll be okay,” they said nonchalantly. “I heard Dr. Coldheart say so.”

“That’s good,” Snips said. “Hey, let’s go outside. It’s too crowded in here.”

“K”.

Zipporwhill frowned. “Shouldn’t we tell mom or Mr. Script before we do that?”

“Hey, Zip, I don’t think Snails saw that new trick you taught Ripley.”

The filly gasped. “Oh my gosh, you have to see the new trick I taught Ripley!” She zoomed off.

Snips gave Snails a lopsided smirk. “Little sisters are so easy to manipulate.”

“You’re only thirty seconds older,” Snails reminded him.

“Oh, shut up, or I won’t tell you what I overheard Miss Cheerilee saying this morning.”

Snails frowned. “But I already know about the Skyzantine Empire test…”

“No, the other thing! Listen…”

It was fortunate that the crowd was so loud already, or else Snails’ gasp of sheer delight would not have gone so unnoticed.

***

Trixie regarded her lunch. “Trixie doesn’t understand. Where is the apple surprise?”

Applejack gestured to the orange slices. “There.”

Pinkie giggled. “Orange you surprised they aren’t apples?”

“Ah.” Trixie nodded. “Very droll.”

Pinkie glanced from Applejack to Trixie and back again. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Mackie and I have a wagon to un-stick, so we’ll just leave you to your lunch!”

Before either mare could stop her, Pinkie pronked over to where Mac was waiting by the door. “Bye!” she called waving energetically.

There was silence. “So,” said Applejack.

“...So,” Trixie returned. After a moment, she continued. “It has come to this.”

“Whut?”

“Trixie does not know either, but it seemed as good a reply as any.”

“Hmph. I got a few bones Ah wanna pick with you, Miss Magician.”

Trixie considered flirting at her, but decided that would probably backfire badly. “Trixie has very little other than time,” she replied instead.

“Ah wanna know why th’ Sam Hill you keep comin’ back here,” Applejack said. “Time after time, jes’ gettin’ knocked down over and over again.”

“Various reasons,” Trixie replied simply. “The inner machinations of my mind are a mystery even to myself.”

Applejack snorted. “Ah kin believe that,” she said drily. “Fine. Why now?”

Trixie looked down at her plate. “Trixie had been doing well,” she said simply. “She attracted the interest of some…” her lip curled. “Trixie would prefer not to say.”

Applejack shrugged. “Suit yerself. Ah ain’t gonna pry.”

Trixie ate a few bites of the egg. “Trixie does not believe she has come across this recipe before,” she said.

“Ah boil ‘em in applesauce.”

“Aha.” They sat in silence. “You have other questions.”

“Ain’t none of my nevermind.”

“Trixie has already bared her soul once today. Give her a go.”

Applejack glowered. “Why are you such a jerk?”

Trixie toyed with her orange slices. “Trixie grew up in Neigh Orleans,” she said. “In the house of Lulamoon, said to be descended from Luna herself.”

“So that’s what gave you such a big ego.”

Trixie glared at her. “You say that, but you never met Trixie’s parents. You never met her brother. That Macintosh, what is he to you?”

“Big brother.”

“You love each other, yes? Care, nurture, protect, and so forth?”

“Well, sure. That’s what families do.”

“It is what families ought to do,” Trixie corrected. She raised a hoof and pulled the hair to one side. “This is what Trixie’s family did.”

Applejack stared at the long scar. “Trixie’s brother is a summoner. One of the most powerful alive today,” Trixie said. “He practiced a great deal as a child, and he needed a steady supplier of blood, or tears, or sweat, or whatever the demon of the day demanded. His own dear little sister fit the bill well enough. She was too weak and disgraced to aspire any higher than that anyway. Her parents didn’t care, not while the golden boy was winning scholarships and building a sorcerous empire.”

She set her hoof down. “Do you understand now? Do you see why Trixie might want to be bold and bombastic? Do you see how--  _easy_ \-- it was? How  _hard_  it was? How-- how--”

It was all too much for her. She broke down, shoving away the plate. She heard the crash as it struck the floor and she thought about how much more Applejack must hate her, now that she’d ruined the lunch she had prepared. In the next second, though, she felt a pair of hooves rubbing her back, embracing her. “Shh, shh, it’s alright sugarcube… It’s alright.”

She felt foreign tears spattering on her coat. She remembered Flora and Fauna giving her an extra beignet on the bad days, and Doctor Southern Comfort patching up her wounds, and Old Jack down by the docks who watched her do the same trick fifty times over, helping her to get it just right. She wondered if this was how family was supposed to feel.

***

Carrot Top’s demeanor softened as soon as she entered the room. “How’re they doing?” she asked gruffly.

Her twin sister, Golden Harvest, didn’t look away from where her baby brother lay unconscious. Goldie’s wife, Daisy Bouquet, was the one who replied. “The doctors say they’re in a bad way, but they should make a full recovery. Carrot got the worst of it. He was closer to the explosion, and he hit his head on the counter as he fell. He’ll be alright, though. They both will.”

Carrot Top relaxed very slightly. “Good. That’s… good. How are the twins?”

“Pinkie brought them to us. Lily fainted as soon as she got the news, but Rose is more than capable of keeping track of them.”

Carrot Top relaxed a little more. “Thank Celestia.” And then she scowled and all the tension was back again. “Damn that mare.”

Golden looked around, startled. “Who, Cup?”

“No!”

“Pinkie?” Daisy asked.

“No! Trixie! She comes back to Ponyville, and not even a day later,  _this_ happens! It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Both mares stared at her. “Topsy,” Golden said gently. “Do you think you might be over--”

“I AM NOT OVERREACTING!”

Daisy shrunk back with a startled shriek, but Golden remained steadfast. “Topsy. Take a deep breath,” she ordered.

Carrot Top glowered, but did as she was told. “Now out… now in… now out. Better?”

“No,” Carrot replied, sullen.

Golden Harvest raised a brow. “Fine! Maybe a little,” Carrot caved. “But it doesn’t help the Cakes, does it?”

“No,” Golden allowed. “But neither does flying off the handle.”

Carrot’s scowl tightened. “You have a point,” she admitted grudgingly. “Directionless anger won’t help anypony.”

Golden relaxed. “Good, I’m glad you--”

“I have a better plan.” Carrot said, turning on her hoof and marching out of the room.

Golden turned to Daisy, her heart sinking. “Please tell me she isn’t going to do something stupid.”

“She isn’t going to do something stupid,” Daisy replied obediently.

Golden sighed and hugged her wife. “If only I could believe that…”

Out in the hall, there was the crackling sound of a magic-powered bullhorn. “Attention! Attention everypony! If you are not either a patient or a medical professional, please leave the building in an organized fashion!”

There was the sound of discontented grumbling. “Alright then, fine!” Redheart shouted. “We’ll do this the hard way! Vinyl Scratch has been kind enough to loan us a portable record player, and we’re about to use it to play ten hours of polka rap! Starting in ten! Nine! Eight!”

The sound of thundering hooves filled the hall, and then all was silence. Golden glanced at Daisy. “Do you suppose that includes us?”

Daisy didn’t answer. She was already halfway out the window.

***

Meanwhile, across town, Bonbon measured out a cup of flour. Tonight was her roomateversary with Lyra, and if the past three years were anything to go by, the unicorn expected a candlelit dinner, followed by a film or bowling. And still she had the nerve to get upset when ponies assumed they were dating. A rare smile graced Bonbon’s lips. Dating or not, Lyra was one of the two most important ponies in her life. “Aunt Bonbon? I can’t reach the thpaghetti.”

The other, of course, was her dear niece, Peppermint Twist. Her brother and his ex-wife weren’t the best-suited for parenthood, and so Bonbon was generally left to pick up the slack. She wasn’t happy about the situation. She resented her brother, on one level, for being so unprepared and irresponsible. On the other hoof, she got to spend more time with her sweet niece, and that made her almost not completely grumpy.

“I can’t come over there right now, Pep. The stepstool is right by the fridge.” She dumped the flour into the melted butter and whisked it quickly.

“I’m  _on_  the thtepthtool!” Twist protested. “I thtill can’t reach!”

Bonbon hesitated and looked at the roux she was preparing. It could sit there for a few seconds without her, surely. She let the whisk fall and rushed over to the cabinet. Sure enough, the spaghetti was all the way in the back of the pantry. She grabbed it out and was about to hurry back to her sauce when the heard it. Heard the faint whining whistle in the air. Her eyes fell on the saucepan. It was bubbling an awful lot, wasn’t it? Her training from SMILE kicked in with a vengeance.

“Pep,” she said with forced calm. “Get on my back and hold on for dear life.”

Twist didn’t ask any questions. She fell onto her auntie’s back and gripped her around the barrel like a cream-colored koala. Bonbon took off at a gallop, racing for the back door, getting as far as she could from what was to come. She rounded the bend. The door was in her sight, now. How much sauce had she made? A pint? It didn't matter, not without knowing what she had actually put in it.

The door was locked. She smashed off the handle with a slicing downwards blow and pushed the door open. There was an earth-shattering kaboom, and a fireball raced down the hall after them. Bonbon was already in midair, but she felt the prickling heat on her backside. Twist screamed, exultant and terrified in equal measure. Bonbon landed with a thump in Lyra’s ornamental duck pond. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to turn her landing into a roll, spare her knees. Instead, she forced herself to bear the shock and save her passenger instead. “Pep, are you alright?”

No reply. “Pep? Pep!”

The little filly stared back at her, wide-eyed. Was she catatonic? Going into cardiac arrest? Was she-- “Let’th do that again!”

No. She was just an adrenaline junkie.


	8. Don't Stop Me Now

Rainbow Dash stared at the smoldering ruins of a soaked building for the second time that day. Beside her, Lyra gawped at the remains of her home, disbelieving the evidence of her own eyes. Bonbon was busy explaining everything to the royal guard, who had shown up not long after Sugarcube Corner went up in smoke. “I-- I can’t believe it,” Lyra said, still in shock. “Who would-- who  _could_  do all this?”

Rainbow Dash bit her tongue to keep back her immediate response. She had regretted accusing Trixie the minute she’d said it. The look Spike had given her had made her want to sink into the earth. “I dunno,” she said instead. “What did Bonbon say caused the explosion? A ruse with some sauce?”

“A roux thauthe,” Twist corrected. “Thimple, but nithe and creamy.”

“Uh, yeah, that.” Dash nodded. “I dunno, maybe she mixed in something she shouldn’t have.”

Lyra wavered. “Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “I dunno, though, she’s usually really good about keeping explosives out of the kitchen.”

“Wait, what? Why does she just have explosives sitting around?”

Lyra’s eyes darted away. “Reasons. Anyway, I’m just glad she wasn’t hurt. And I’m glad you’re okay too, munchkin.”

She pulled Twist into a great snuggling hug and Dash looked away. She’d almost said it. Dammit. Trixie was just such a tempting target, the easiest and most available scapegoat. She hadn’t been thinking back at Sugarcube Corner. She’d just let her mouth run away with her, and right after she’d said she’d be Trixie’s friend, too.  _Dammit_. How easy would it have been to blame Starlight not too long ago? How easy would it have been if it was Gilda, back before they’d started patching things up again? How easy would have been to blame Dash herself, just a prank gone really, really wrong? _DAMMIT_.

Dash kicked a rock and watched it skitter along the road. One of the royal guards glanced up at the noise, but she just glared until he turned away again. She was just so stupid sometimes.

“Hey.”

Dash looked up. Pinkie looked back at her, unusually subdued. Mac stood behind the pink pony, glancing around in confusion. Hadn’t they just been at Trixie’s wagon a second ago? Best not to question the Pie, Mac decided, then sat down to rest against the fence.

“Hi, Pinkie,” Dash said. “How’re you?”

Pinkie snorted. “Let’s just say I’ve had better days,” she sighed. “The twins are safe, though, and the doctors said that Mr. and Mrs. Cake are gonna be okie-dokie soon enough. So that’s all good. And Twilight’s set up a room for me at her castle, and she and Spike are setting up another room for Lyra and Bonnie and Twist. So that should be fun! We can have a sleepover and have pillow fights and tell spoooooky stories and stuff! But--”

She looked at the burnt house and her mane started to go flat. “Somepony is doing this on purpose,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” said Dash.

Pinkie’s head whipped around. “And it can’t have been Trixie.”

“No,” said Dash.

“I think somepony owes somepony else an apology.”

“Did  _she_  apologize for anything  _she_  ever did?”

“Well, she’s trying to,” Pinkie pointed out.

Dash didn’t have an answer for that. She grunted instead.

“And she did save us from--”

“I know she saved us from the changelings!” Dash shouted, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I know what she did, and I’m glad she did! But that doesn’t mean I have to like her! It doesn’t mean I have to forgive her for all the stunts she pulled before! It doesn’t mean she doesn’t get up my nose whenever I see her, and it doesn’t mean she didn’t almost destroy Ponyville! Twice!”

Pinkie looked taken aback, and before she could reply, Dash was gone again. Pinkie watched her friend soar, and her withers slumped. Mac patted her on the back. “It’ll all turn out alright, Miz Pie. You’ll see.”

Pinkie nodded. “I know it will,” she said, subdued. “But right now?” She sighed, and lapsed into a rare silence.

After a minute, she rose again. “C’mon. We’ve still got a wagon to move.”

***

Trixie tried to help set up the guest room as best she could. Of course, she hadn’t seen a guest room since she’d left home, and hadn’t used one in even longer than that. She was therefore relegated to fetching out blankets from the linen closet at the end of the hall. At least her fellow workers were being nice about it. Applejack had softened a lot after the whole ‘soul-baring’ thing.

Trixie hated it. Or, well, not hated, exactly. She liked it. She liked it a lot, really. But now that Applejack didn’t hate her, it was a lot harder to keep hating Ponyville. It wasn’t just Applejack, either. It was Twilight, too, and Pinkie, and the nurse, and Spike, and everypony else who had decided that she deserved forgiveness once again.

She would leave Ponyville for Canterlot as soon as the wagon was out of the mud and she was fully recovered. She had promised it to herself. She had promised it out loud, too, and she couldn’t be seen going back on her promises.

Was that Amulet talk, too? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything right now. She hated that.

“Uh, Trixie?”

Trixie grunted and looked up. Twilight looked back at her, concerned. “I think we’ve got enough blankets,” she said carefully.

Trixie blinked, only just now registering the enormous mountain of sheets and quilts that she’d piled next to the guest room’s door. “Oh. Oops.”

Twilight smiled. “That’s alright. Leave them out. We can all build a blanket fort later on. I heard Pinkie say she wanted to turn this into a sleepover anyhow, so that should be just perfect.”

Spike poked his head out of the room. “Will this be a mares-only event, or can a certain charming dragon finagle his way in?”

Twilight smiled. “Of course you can, Spike. But I thought you were going back over to Rarity’s tonight?”

Spike winced. “Uh, I decided to take a little rain check on that. Totally unrelated note, can Sweetie Belle come over, too? The Carousel Boutique is…” he trailed off. “Not prime habitation at present,” he concluded delicately.

Twilight frowned. “Don’t tell me it’s exploded as well.”

Spike rubbed at his horns nervously. “In a manner of speaking. Carrot Top went over there awhile ago.”

Applejack frowned. “Ah thought they hated one another’s guts,” she said shortly.

“Oh, they do,” Spike assured her. “But, well… they found some common ground. Or neutral territory, if you like.”

***

Rarity stared across the table intently. Her mane was an absolute wreck. She had split ends everywhere, and no less than forty hairs out of place! That wasn’t even beginning to examine her tail. She shuddered to think of it.

Across from her, Carrot stared back, just as intense. “So, you want Trixie gone too,” she said.

“Naturally,” Rarity said. “I respect Twilight as a friend, and she may have what guests she pleases, but I cannot in good conscience allow--”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Carrot growled. “I got a plan, but I can’t do it alone. Trouble is, there’s not a lot of ponies in town who like me that much.”

Surprise, surprise, Rarity thought bitterly. Carrot had all the refinement of Rainbow Dash, all the eloquence of Applejack, and all the good cheer of a hive of wasps.

“You, though. Ponies like you. They listen to you.”

“That  _is_  true,” Rarity preened.

“So you’ve gotta tell them first, and then I’ll back you up,” Carrot said, her eyes practically glowing with the fires of Tartarus. “You gotta remind them about Trixie, all the trouble she causes.”

Rarity nodded. “I turn the opinion of the crowd, then you incite them to act,” she said. “I understand completely.”

“For the good of the children,” Carrot said.

“For the good of all Ponyville,” Rarity corrected.

Carrot spat on her hoof and extended it. Rarity recoiled, all but falling off her chair. Carrot glowered at the insult, but extended her other hoof instead. They shook on it. Before tomorrow's first light, Ponyville would see its first true riot.

***

The explosions were growing steadily more common, but that didn’t make them any easier to deal with. Rainbow had ordered Thunderlane and Bulk Biceps to bring back extra clouds from the weather factory, even given them a note to show the workers there. Then, she gave them another note that would get them an audience with Princess Celestia if things got really out of hoof. After Lyra and Bonbon’s house, the next to be demolished had been Caramel’s place, right next to Carousel Boutique. Rainbow had seen Rarity watching from the cupola at the top of her shop, lips pursed tightly. His house had been the least damaged yet. Only the kitchen had been singed, and Caramel had been taken to the hospital for minor burns.

Almost immediately after that, Sweet Apple Acres had been the next under attack. The house had been badly wounded, but luckily, nopony had been inside-- the only one on the farm had been Granny Smith, and she had been out feeding the chickens when the old cast-iron stove went up like a Romane candle, taking her apple turnovers, the kitchen, and a good chunk of the upstairs bathroom with it.

Applejack had made Granny go to the hospital anyway, just in case of shock. In the end, Redheart and Coldheart had decided to sedate Applejack instead, to keep her from getting into an even bigger tizzy. That had been hard for Dash to watch. Even harder had been seeing Ponyville’s local bar,  _the Stick and Carrot_  go up in flames. The landlady, Berry Punch, and her daughter had made it out safely, but the same couldn’t be said for the shepherd’s pies she’d had in the oven, or the shelf of liquors behind the bar. Dash had almost cried at that. After a day like today, she needed to get hammered, asap.

The worst had been seeing Ditzy Doo’s half-conscious, ash-covered form being dragged out on a stretcher. It was never a good sign seeing those golden eyes aligned. More painful still had been the sight of Ditzy’s daughter, Dinky, being pulled off her mother like a leech by the paramedics. “This isn’t right!” the filly howled. “This would never have happened if Trixie wasn’t back! I hate her! I hate all of you!”

Dash had flown away then. She desperately wanted to go home. She still had a bottle of three-precipitation vodka somewhere. She’d gotten it five years ago and never drank it because it tasted disgusting. Right now, though, she’d take whatever could wash the bad taste out of her mouth and the guilty memories out of her mind. Maybe she could contact the Wonderbolts, call in a few favors owed. But then there was another explosion, and without even thinking, she was already beating her ever more tired wings against the polluted, smoke-stinking air toward the next explosion.

***

The mayor had called a town-wide meeting. Attendance was optional, in the same way that staring at a forest fire is optional. Ponyville was terrified, but at the same time, they just couldn’t bring themselves to look away. If a citizen wasn’t packed in like a sardine at the town hall, it was a safe bet that they were at the hospital instead.

Mayor Ivory Scroll peered out at the crowd over the podium. She wiped away a bead of sweat under the guise of adjusting her half-moon spectacles. She couldn’t let them see how nervous she was. The fear of a politician was an instant signal to panic, and in a town like Ponyville, that could easily turn a bad situation into a catastrophic one. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t heading in that direction to begin with. Nevertheless, she was the mayor. It was her job to maintain order and law in this town, as futile as that often seemed. So she set her jaw and leaned into the microphone. “Good evening.”

The murmur of the crowd died away slowly. The mayor looked around the crowd. There seemed to be a few extremely calm ponies in the crowd, offset by the number of furious ones. Most of the crowd just seemed to be on edge-- not yet given over to fear completely, but teetering on the precipice. “As I’m sure you are all aware, Ponyville has become the playground for some kind of serial arsonist. However, let me begin by dispelling the worst of your fears. No ponies have died. All who were injured are expected to make a full recovery, and all property damage is being covered by the crown under the Everfree Protection Charter. If your home was damaged, Princess Twilight has offered the use of her castle until such time as your property is habitable again.”

Some of the tension oozed away. The mayor took in a deep breath. “Now for the bad news. The arsonist has not yet been caught, nor have the royal guard found any leads. Of course, they haven’t finished searching all of the explosion sites yet, so some clue may yet turn up.”

A low, discontented muttering rose up. The mayor cleared her throat. “ _However_ ,” she continued forcefully. “A team of…” she glanced over to where Twilight Sparkle and Big Macintosh were standing proudly by a large posterboard. Mac had replaced his yoke with a rather tweedy bow tie. “A team of royal analysts have also examined the sites, and reached some interesting conclusions. Your highness?”

Twilight stepped out on stage. Big Mac carried out the posterboard behind her. “Thank you, madame Mayor,” she said, levitating over a microphone of her own. “We have learned that all the explosions have been centered around the kitchen of the affected residences. To be precise, they were centered on the oven or stove. For your own safety, I urge you to keep any use of these appliances to a minimum until the arsonist or arsonists has been safely caught.”

There was a discontented murmuring from the crowd, but Twilight refused to be cowed. “Are there any questions? Yes, Vinyl Scratch.”

The unicorn put down her hoof. “If we can’t use our ovens, what are we gonna eat?” she asked.

Twilight paused. “...Salad?” she suggested. “Sandwiches?”

“Cold cereal,” the mayor said.

“Apples,” Mac suggested.

“You could make toast. I haven’t seen any exploding toasters,” Twilight said.

Vinyl nodded and sat back down.

“Other questions… Lily?”

The blonde mare pulled back her hoof as though it had been burned, falling back with a squeak. Twilight blinked. “Uh, didn’t quite catch that.”

Lily’s sister, Rose, rose. “She said, ‘You said “arsonist or arsonists.” Does that mean you think there might be more than one?’”

A low murmur ripped through the crowd and Twilight held up a hoof for silence. “That is a distinct possibility,” she said. “One that can neither be proven nor discounted. It would account for certain points, such as how quickly the explosions occurred and why there was no one pony present at each targeted location. However, it fails to explain how the arsonist was able to gain access to all the targets without being noticed. For now, we’re working on the assumption that there is one arsonist only, but we’re also open to the idea that there may be more."

This completely failed to resettle the crowd. Twilight shot a nervous glance at the mayor, who was shaking her head rapidly. The princess looked around for another question, somepony who she could count on for a softball. “Rarity!” she said in relief. “Everypony please quiet down, we still have some more audience questions.”

“Oh, this isn’t just a question, darling,” Rarity said, rising to her hooves. “It’s a solution.”

Twilight frowned. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Rarity looked up at Twilight and met her gaze squarely. “Why don’t you just take Trixie into custody?”

***

Spike swirled his tea around his cup thoughtfully. “How many lumps?” he asked.

Trixie took a sip of her drink and pulled a face. “How many have you got?”

“Not a big fan of peppermint tea?”

“Trixie prefers cocoa. Or lemonade.” She paused. “But watching you boil the kettle with your nose was cool.”

“I aim to please,” Spike said, grinning.

Trixie took several tea cakes off the plate between them and popped them in her mouth one by one. “Pho, hphw du phink da meephins goern?”

Spike grimaced at the crumbs that had fallen all over the nice, clean floor. “I hope you know you’re cleaning that up. Say that again, without your mouth full.”

Trixie rolled her eyes, but swallowed the cakes. “So, how do you think the meeting’s going?” she repeated.

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. The mayor’s pretty good at calming down the crowds, and Twilight’s got the safety advice she and Mac cooked up. I’ll bet things should get a lot calmer pretty quick here.”

There was a sudden flash of light in the middle of the kitchen, and suddenly Twilight, Mac, and the mayor were all standing at the counter, breathing heavily. The safety poster was tattered, and the mayor’s glasses hung askew. Twilight gave a loopy grin. “So, uh, Trixie. You remember what you were saying about an angry mob?”

Trixie glared at Spike. “Do yourself a favor, and never go to Las Pegasus.”

“Noted,” Spike said.

***

Spike was the one delegated to deal with the mob, if mob was the word for it. It wasn’t, really. It was just a herd of loud, confused, frightened ponies, who just wanted their questions answered. As Spike was good at both dealing with complicated questions and intimidating ponies into submission by his presence alone, he was the natural choice. The rest of them stayed in the kitchen. Trixie couldn’t find it in her to face the crowd just now, and the other three all felt they deserved a cup of tea and a biscuit after being swarmed like that. “I just don’t know why Rarity would do something like that,” Twilight said mournfully. “She knows how to work a crowd. She could’ve made things go so much easier, and instead…”

“Well, we all make mistakes,” the mayor said, pouring a soupcon of cream into her tea.

Trixie winced and looked away. “Trixie thinks the shouting is starting to die down,” she said.

Twilight nodded. “I’ll go and help Spike disperse the crowd,” she said, rising from her seat.

It was odd. Less than a day ago, and Trixie would have been overjoyed to see Sparkle-- Twilight-- leaving the room. Now, she felt she would do anything for her to come back and save her from having to talk to these two. What do you even say to the mayor of a small town after locking her in a birdcage and taking her lands by force? “So,” said Trixie. “Would you like to pick a card at all?”

The mayor looked at her, somewhere between amused and confused. After a moment, she decided on the former. “Have you got a deck?”

“I-- well--” Trixie paused, stymied. “Give Trixie a moment. She is not always at her sharpest right she has eaten. And with Rarity apparently leading a mob against her…” She snorted. “It amazes Trixie how much debate goes on without consulting her. Think of a card.”

“Beg pardon?” the mayor asked.

“Think of a deck of cards. Let it form in the black recesses of your mind-- wait! Count the cards, make sure they’re all there.”

The mayor gave her an odd look, but did as she was bidden. “Pick one out,” Trixie said simply. “Do not tell Trixie what it is. Now, put it back in the deck.”

The mayor chuckled. “All right. I don’t suppose there’s a way we could play gin with this imaginary deck.”

“In the mind’s eye, all things are possible,” Trixie said mysteriously. “Eight of diamonds.”

There was a moment of absolute silence. The mayor fumbled for words. “I-- how did you--”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Trixie replied smoothly.

Mac chuckled. “Ah bet Ah know.” He tapped his ears. “Ah’m a real good listener.”

The mayor frowned. “I don’t see--”

“She put th’ thought in yer head,” Mac explained. “Sayin’ all that stuff about Miz Rarity, an’ bein’ sharp, an’ black recesses-- all that’s about diamonds. An’ th’ eight, she said all that ‘bout debate, an’ wait, an’ she jus’ ate. Am Ah right, Miz Lulamoon?”

Trixie smirked. “Trixie could tell you, but then the Magic Circle would make us both disappear.”

The mayor smiled. “Well, that certainly is impressive, no matter how it was done. I don’t suppose you’ve ever considered becoming a speech writer?”

There was a precipitous moment. Another pony who cared about her. Who liked her. Another anchor keeping her tied to this burg. “Trixie will not be needing a job in Ponyville. She intends to travel on to Canterlot later this week.”

“I see,” said the mayor. “Well, I wish you good luck on your travels.” She glanced up. “I do believe the crowd has gone. I should head back to town hall myself. Good afternoon, Macintosh. Miss Lulamoon.”

“Trixie prefers to be called Trixie,” Trixie said, but the older mare had already gone.

Mac looked at her. His gaze had some kind of strange gravity to it, and before Trixie even realized it, she was meeting his gaze. “What?” she demanded.

“Don’t like usin’ yer family name?” he enquired.

“No, Trixie does not,” Trixie said, tearing her eyes away. “Her family is exactly what Trixie tried to leave behind when she went on the road.”

“Hm,” said Mac.

“And you can spare Trixie your down-home platitudes about family being the most important thing, or always forgiving them, or how they always love you,” Trixie spat. “Trixie showed your sister what they did to me, and she changed her tune pretty quick.”

Mac chewed on a biscuit, not commenting on the shift in pronouns.

Apparently, silence wasn’t enough for Trixie. She pushed back part of her coat to reveal scarred skin beneath. “This is Trixie’s family legacy,” she said. “All she will ever take of it. All the gold and prestige can get jumped for all Trixie cares!”

Mac swallowed the biscuit. “Was jus’ gonna say, you only  _tried_ leavin’ ‘em behind?”

“Uh--” Trixie stopped dead. “Pardon. A slip of the tongue,” she said.

“Mhm,” Mac nodded. “They don’t sound like nice folk, yer kin.”

“Not nice folk? Not  _nice folk_?” Trixie snorted. “You have a gift for understatement.”

“Tell me about ‘em,” Mac said, and he was so calm, so quiet, that Trixie did just that. She poured out the same story she’d given Twilight just the night before.

When she’d finished. Mac nodded his heavy head. “Alright. Now tell me ‘bout yer family.”

Trixie stared at him blankly. “Trixie just-- Did Trixie not just do that? Have you short-term memory loss? Deafness? Some sort of, of, Trixie doesn’t even know?”

Mac snorted. “Nope.”

Trixie frowned. “In that case, Trixie is really not following you, here.”

“Ya told me ‘bout yer kin,” Mac expounded. “Yer blood, if ya like. They don’t sound much like family t’me.”

Trixie’s frown twisted into a scowl. “Oh, and Trixie supposes that the real family was the friends she made along the way? The ponies who supported her instead of tearing her down? Those who actually loved her?”

Mac considered this. “Pret’ much, yeah.”

“Well, maybe Trixie doesn’t have any family,” she said, voice cold. She turned to glare meaningfully and broodingly at the wall. “Where were they when Trixie was at her lowest ebb? Where were they when she had just been freed of the Amulet’s grasp? Anyway, blood is thicker than water. Trixie is of house Lulamoon, regardless of how little she likes it.”

Mac pushed back his chair and rose to leave. “Iffin ya say so,” he said. “But Ah reckon ya got a little family, somewhere. Starlight Glimmer, fer sure, an’ maybe his Highness King Thorax, an’ Discord. An’ Ah heard tell ‘bout yer time on th’ Pie family rock farm, too.”

A smile traced Trixie’s lips for an instant. “Igneous and Cloudy aren’t quite as stern as they act, you know.”

“Ah know. Pinkie tol’ us Apples that we were kin to her family anyhow, so Ah reckon you an’ me are related  _somehow_.”

Trixie sat in stony silence, the brief smile all but evaporated. Mac sighed. “‘Blood is thicker’n water,’” he said. “Nopony ever says the full thing. ‘Th’ blood of the covenant is thicker’n th’ waters of the womb.’ You build yer own family.”

“Trixie would prefer you not mention blood and covenants to her again,” Trixie said. “She had enough of that from her brother.”  
Mac lowered his great head and nodded before trotting out of the room. Trixie stared at the wall for a while longer, deep in thought.


	9. Headlong

Macintosh cast a critical eye over the wagon. “In there pretty deep,” he observed.

Pinkie nodded. “Can you do it?” she asked.

Mac considered this. “With help-- eeyup.”

“Okie-doke!” Pinkie chirped. “You pull, I’ll push.”

“Mm. Might need a li’l more muscle’n that, Miz Pie.”

Pinkie pouted. “Alright, fine. I’ll go and get Applejack-- no, she’s in the hospital, isn’t she?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Eeyup. Least she ain’t awake t’ panic no more. Maybe Nurse Redheart should use more o’ them sedatives.”

“I think that might cause more problems than it solved,” an amused voice said.

Mac turned slightly. “Oh. Howdy, nurse. What brings you out this way?”

“I thought that the families of our patients might like some updates on their conditions,” Redheart said, waving a clipboard as she trotted forward. “Under the current circumstances, we’re doing our best to dissuade ponies from visiting in the flesh. We’re being overbooked as it is. The last thing we need is somepony being crushed in a mob of well-wishers.”

“Hm,” said Mac. “Well, while yer here, think you could give us a hoof?”

Redheart nodded and went to join Pinkie at the back of the wagon. “So how is AJ, anyhow?”

“She’s being a very silly pony,” Redheart replied, smiling slightly. “We’re keeping her slightly sedated to keep her blood pressure from going haywire, and it seems to have made her rather… how can I put this? Amorous?”

Mac winced as he began to tug the wagon forward. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know there were so many apple-related pickup lines.”

“Oh.”

“Or that her kisses taste like apples.”

Mac cringed. “Uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

Redheart frowned. “Sorry? Never mind sorry, can you convince her to go out with me or not?”

“Um…” said Mac. Fortunately for him, at that exact moment, the wagon began to roll forward. All three earth ponies strained to shove it out of the rut it had sunken into. The wheels teetered on the edge of the pit. Then, there was the sound of an explosion, and Mac was jerked sharply back as the two mares stopped in shock.

“That was only a few blocks away,” Redheart said.

“574 Shetland Road, residence of Tender Care and Button Mash,” Pinkie corrected. “Come on, let’s go help!”

The two mares rushed off, leaving Mac dazed and tied to Trixie’s wagon.

***

Meanwhile, at Carousel Boutique, Rarity and Carrot Top had reconvened in the kitchen. “Well, darling, I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Rarity asked, pouring out a cup of coffee.

Carrot merely grunted. “It didn’t work. Trixie’s still at the castle, and your little mob’s been dispersed.”

Rarity scoffed. “That? That was never meant to be the masterstroke. That was the opening, an aperitif to Trixie’s cooked goose. Ponies are still frightened after all the good work done by the mayor, and they now have one very convenient scapegoat. All we need now is the tiniest scrap of evidence, and the whole town will be baying for blood.”

“And I suppose you have that evidence,” Carrot replied nastily. “Considering that the police and royal guard haven’t found a thing.”

Rarity smirked. “Well, not exactly. Even Shadow Spade had to stage a thing or two in her time. It’s called ‘baiting the crook,’ I believe.”

“What are you talking about?” Carrot demanded.

Rarity opened the oven telekinetically. Inside, Carrot Top was astonished to see a small pile of fireworks. “What the--”

“I know where Pinkie keeps a small stash, in case of firework emergencies,” Rarity said, rather pleased with herself.

After a moment, Carrot Top nodded slowly. “I see. You blow up your own kitchen, and then claim you saw Trixie loitering around earlier.”

“Teleporting out, I think,” Rarity corrected. “She can’t have waited around all of her targets before sending them up in smoke, or ponies would have noticed. We’ve already seen that she is capable of teleportation, which is not a common trick for unicorns to pull off! There are only a hoofful in town who could manage it.”

Rarity was interrupted by a not-too-distant explosion, and she grimaced. “This ends now,” she said firmly, slamming the oven door. She would never dream of doing such a thing under normal circumstances, but, well, it wasn’t as though she needed to worry about damaging it now. “We’ll give it a few minutes so the first responders can take care of whatever building just went off.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Carrot said. “It’ll look suspicious if we were both here.”

“Good point,” Rarity said, considering. “I’ll bid you farewell at the door, wait ten minutes, and turn on the oven. I believe I’ve got enough to believably damage the kitchen without affecting other rooms… Hm.” She stopped to think. “Where can I stand so that I can say I saw Trixie without getting injured by shrapnel?”

Sweetie Belle banged the door open and both mares froze. How much had she heard? But she was frenzied, filled with other pressing concerns. “Button’s house just exploded, and he and his mom were still inside!” she shouted. “I’m gonna see if they’re okay.”

Rarity waffled for a moment, glancing between Carrot and Sweetie. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she said firmly.

Sweetie gave her a strange look, but nodded and ran for the front door as quickly as she could. Rarity exhaled. Button Mash and Tender Care had already lost so much, and Ponyville had been their chance to start afresh. They had done nothing to deserve this. They had never even met Trixie. Who would be the next to fall to her vengeful crimes? Rarity's eyes hardened. She knew the answer to that. She knew who would fall next. Who would fall last, if she had her way.

***

The scene was fraught on Shetland Road. Already, the street was filled with weather patrol agents, firefighters, doctors, and one very nervous flour delivery colt. Rainbow Dash had dropped into a sort of groove of collecting clouds, transporting them, then bucking the everloving rut out of them. But something seemed different this time. Where were the inhabitants? Tender Care and her son? Dash cast an eye over the crowd. No sign. Maybe they weren't at home when the explosion went off.

Or maybe they were still inside. She saw a pair of paramedics half-dragging out Tender. Behind them…

Button was pretty short, but he wasn't exactly small. He was kinda chubby, and he had nearly as much energy as Pinkie, kind of like a super ball brought to life. But there, cradled in the crook of a hoof, eyes shut, he looked like an infant. He was just unconscious. He had to be just unconscious. He would wake up in a little while, wouldn't he?

Dash wrenched her gaze back to the clouds. She had a job to do, and she couldn't think about  _oh dear princesses, what would Scootaloo do, what would any of the Crusaders do_  anything else. She didn't know what was going on below. Guessing and freaking out would only make everything worse. She had to keep the fire from spreading, and that was all.

She risked a quick glance over the skyline. Great wisps of smoke and ash stung the lungs and hid the sun. The shape of the town was collapsing. As if on cue, the next explosion went off, and Dash’s heart sank when she realized where it had come from. Carousel Boutique.

***

Trixie brushed past Twilight in the doorway. It took the alicorn a minute to register this. Trixie had already made it to the stairwell when a wall of energy sprung up in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?” Twilight asked, not challenging, not belligerent, just honestly curious, with a light note of teasing thrown in for good measure.

Nevertheless, Trixie bridled. “Trixie was not aware that she was to confide her every movement in you,” she snapped.

Twilight drew back slightly. Trixie felt slightly remorseful. “Trixie was just going out,” she said simply.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Twilight pointed out.

“No,” Trixie said drily. “Really? In the suddenly combustible town? Trixie would never have guessed.”

“It’s particularly dangerous for you.”

“Glad you can admit that. Trixie thought you might try and tell Trixie that they’re just misunderstood and why don’t we all get together and have a picnic or something.”

Twilight waited. Trixie deflated. “Too much?”

“A little. But I can see where you’re coming from,” Twilight said. “Stress affects all of us in some way or another. Remind me to tell you about the Smarty-Pants incident sometime. But you need to know that you aren’t seeing the town at its best. And even the group that really does bear you ill will is absolutely in the minority. But it’s a minority that exists, and I don’t want to see you being hurt by that group.”

“Even if some of your friends are in that group?”

Twilight shrugged. “Friendship isn’t all about blind agreement. It’s about caring for each other enough to work out those disagreements that come up. Anyway, it’s not as though I don’t have any friends who are on your side, either. There’s Pinkie, Fluttershy, Spike, Mac… you…”

Trixie’s breath caught in her throat. “I… Thank you,” she said. “That means more than you could know.”

Twilight was wronghoofed by Trixie’s sudden use of the first-pony pronoun, but she recovered. “Well, you’re welcome. But you can thank me more by staying inside where it’s safe.”

“No.”

“But you could be hurt.”

“Trixie knows that. Everypony knows that. But she still has to help.”

“But why? You said earlier that you were unappreciated.”

“As Trixie said. Everypony knows that she is more likely than anypony else to be hurt out there.”

It took a moment for the implication to sink in, but when it did, it was a doozy. “Performative heroics,” Twilight said softly, almost marvelling.

“Not the way Trixie would like to put it, but yes. If she is seen about town helping to fight fires and save ponies, her reputation will be redeemed. She supposes she ought to thank Rainbow Dash for the idea.”

“I’m not sure if that’s completely brilliant or really selfish.”

“Who said it can’t be both?”

“And  _that_  was either very deep or very egotistical.”

Trixie just smirked. “Look. Trixie will be helping the town and making friends with new ponies along the way. Surely you can’t disagree with that?”

Twilight huffed. “Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“Ha! That means yes!” Trixie crowed. A look at Twilight’s face subdued her. “Trixie will be careful, yes.”

Twilight held her eye for a moment longer, but the barrier in front of the stairs faded to nothing. She watched Trixie as she hurried away. She regretted her decision already. But as she had said before, friendship wasn’t about blind agreement. She had just never expected to care for Trixie so much in so short a time.

***

Snips and Snails sat together on a small hill on the east side of town, watching Zipporwhill play fetch with Ripley. At least, in theory they were. Zipporwhill was much too distracted by her dog to pay any mind to her twin brother, or to his best friend. Away from the prying eyes and pricked ears of parents, authority figures, or anypony else with an ounce of sense, the two were able to quietly scheme in private. “So she’s staying with the Princess?” Snails gasped softly. “Gosh. I wish I could stay in her castle, too, eh?”

Snips waved away his friend’s daydreams. “Yeah, she is,” he said in an even huskier than usual whisper. “But we can’t get in there, so we’ll have to wait until she comes out to see her.”

“Aww,” Snails said, deflating. “When will that be?”

Snips shrugged. “I dunno. But I heard a bunch of other ponies talking about how she’s trying to go around town and apologize for stuff.”

Snails brightened again. “So maybe she’ll come and see us, eh!” they said, leaning forward with eyes gleaming.

“Hey, you’re right! I hadn’t thought about that!” Snips said, grinning.

“You still wouldn’t be able to see her,” Zipporwhill said nonchalantly.

Snips frowned. “Aw, Zip! I said we wanted to talk in private!”

“So keep it down over there!” she replied, annoyed. “Look, even if Miss Trixie goes to see Snails, Carrot Top would probably brain her with a hoe, and if she came to our house, mom probably wouldn’t let her in, either.”

“Oh,” said Snips, slumping. “Yeah. Good point.”

Zipporwhill clicked her tongue, and Ripley bounded to her side, tennis ball clutched firmly in mouth. She made a short, sharp gesture upwards with her hoof. Ripley sat, staring up at the pegasus, tail thumping. Snips and Snails did the same thing, though without the thumping tails. “We need a plan,” she said.

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” her brother demanded. “You don’t even like Trixie that much?”

“Look, you want my help or not?” Zipporwhill demanded, glaring at him through thick-rimmed glasses.

“Yes, please,” said Snails, who may not have been particularly quick, but did have some remarkable preservation instincts.

“Okay. This is how we find her…”

***

Trixie could see the clouds of smoke rising. Finding somewhere that had been attacked was not an issue. Finding somewhere that still had any ponies gathered around to help, on the other hoof, was proving rather more difficult. For some reason, almost nopony seemed to be gathered around the wrecks. Nopony seemed to be out on the streets at all. The few that were outside when she approached tended to give her odd looks, at best. At worst, they quickly headed indoors. Nevertheless, Trixie kept her head erect, and her expression as beatific and generally shining with the milk of equine kindness as possible.

Of course, to any outside observer, it looked as though she were trying to grind her teeth down to a fine meal, but that was rather beside the point.

_If Trixie doesn’t find a crowd soon, Trixie will have to summon one,_  she thought grimly, pondering over the easiest combustion spells she could think of. Then, she stopped to mentally smack herself a little. That was the Amulet talking again. It had to be. Even after all the years since she had parted with it, it still spoke to her every now and again, speaking in a voice disturbingly similar to her own.

She shook off the last of the intrusive thought and continued down along the street. She thought that she could hear voices down along the way. They were too far away for her to make out the words, but they sounded loud and angry.

As she drew nearer, she saw the crowd. Somepony else, it seemed, had assembled an audience. Trixie did not begrudge this. She refused to begrudge a fellow performer their success. After all, it was much easier to win over a crowd all at once than one by one, and Trixie was not above taking advantage of any little thing that might come her way. That wasn’t the Amulet talking. That was good common sense.

As she got even closer, she saw the venue. Trixie would not personally have used the garden outside a still-smoldering kitchen for any kind of performance but, well, to each their own. She couldn’t quite recognize the pony speaking from this distance, but she did admire their magnetism and charm. The gestures were emotive, but not exaggerated; the posture was poised, but not frozen. And they-- she, now that Trixie drew ever closer-- could project very well! Even halfway down the street, Trixie could make out words here and there. Words like ‘terrible division’ and ‘appalling threat’ and ‘menace to society’. And then the words stopped. And Trixie stopped. Oh, rut.

“AND THERE SHE IS!” Rarity thundered, thrusting out a hoof. Trixie didn’t stick around to see the response from the crowd. She turned tail and she ran. A few seconds later, the ground shook with the mighty rumble of hooves as the herd rose up and stampeded.

As the smoke billowed yet from the smoldering kitchen, a pair of eyes, unnoticed by anypony, watched the scene unfold to its conclusion. Everything was going exactly as hoped.

Across town, Pinkie spasmed and went weak at the knees. Mac rushed to her side, but she was standing up straight once more. But her face was grave. “Leave the cart,” she said. “We need to go.”

In the Castle of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle felt the walls began to hum a deep, gloomy note. “Spike?” she shouted. “If Trixie comes back, let her inside. Nopony else comes in without my say-so!” She teleported out without waiting for a reply.

Rainbow Dash swooped over the heads of the crowd, desperately uncertain who she should be helping, what was going on, how she could ever try to fix this, but equally as certain that everything had gone terribly, terribly wrong and it was all her own fault.

It wasn’t actually that much of a mob. Ponyville didn’t have much truck with violent riots. The general idea was that it was like being in a big musical number, but with anger and shouting. This was about the worst angry mob Ponyville had ever had, and that was only because the protesters had written messages slightly stronger than "Down With This Sort of Thing" on their signs.

On balance, there weren’t even that many of them. The rioters made up perhaps two percent of the population, if that. It wasn't even a tenth of the crowd Rarity had gathered. Why, if they’d all lined up, chest to plot, they wouldn’t have been long enough to stretch down a city block. It was enough, though. Trixie could hear Twilight shouting for calm, Pinkie Pie trying to distract them as best she could, Macintosh bellowing at them to keep away.

But more than any of that, she heard the condemnation. It was chanted in the cries of the protesters, but it was more than that. She could hear the roar of fury in the stink of the sweat, hear the shouts for blood in every hoofbeat, hear the low words of judgement in the gleam in the ringleader’s eyes. And all of it was getting closer. It was all too much. In a single fluid motion, she smashed a glass flask on the ground and was swallowed in a cloud of smoke. When it had gone, so had Trixie.


	10. You're My Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act III: In which Trixie, Zipporwhill, Snips, and Snails discover the true culprit behind the arsons, justice is served, and Beatrix Lulamoon faces down her own past

In light of the events of the evening, Twilight Sparkle had cleared out a large holding cell in her dungeon and herded the rioters in there. The royal guards on loan from Canterlot had stoically marched the twenty-odd rioters down the stairs and through the corridors of the castle. They hadn’t protested much. A few of them were still proud and haughty with the thrill of success. The rest hung their heads low, rather abashed at the way they had acted. The Flower Trio huddled together in the center of the crowd, eyeing the guards with open dread. Sea Breeze seemed to vibrate with pent up worry and confusion. Written Script was still taking notes. Rainbow Dash lagged along at the back, unwilling to look up at anypony.

All of them were squeezed into the cell. It was the largest that the castle held, but it was still a bit of a squish. The guards then moved to stand against the walls. Three more ponies entered. Two of them trotted forth to sit in front of the cell. The third took a moment to speak with a guard. She gestured that they should leave. The guard shook his head, and a quiet argument ensued. The princess walked away to join her friends, scowling, but the guard and all his compatriots stayed where they were.

Big Macintosh was the least terrifying of the three. Despite his uncharacteristically twisted scowl, despite his magnificent physique, despite his stony silence, he was the one who seemed the most forgiving.

Twilight Sparkle was the second-least terrifying. Despite her occasional flares of magic, despite the infinity of stars that seemed to dance just out of sight behind her, despite the faint sounds of a chanting crowd and the smell of ozone that surrounded her, she paled in comparison to the worst of them.

Pinkie Pie sat between the other two. Her mane had turned into a razor-sharp cascade. Her normal cheery smile had been replaced with a deep frown. And her eyes… she met the gaze of each of the rioters in turn. In that gaze, there was no malice, no resentment, no anger at all. Only the sheerest disappointment that any of them had ever been subjected to. Rarity couldn’t meet her friend’s eyes for more than five seconds. Rainbow couldn’t even manage that. Carrot Top lasted the longest, but even she crumbled before a minute had passed.

“Well,” Twilight said quietly. “I certainly hope you’re satisfied.”

Carrot Top looked to Rarity, but the unicorn was staring down at the ground. The farmer straightened up, taking on the role of spokespony. “We are,” she said firmly. “We did what had to be done.”

The air behind Twilight glowed a deep purple. In the heads of the assembled, the same picture formed-- a great constellation, all arrows and circles and lines, flaring like a bonfire. But Twilight took in a deep breath and it faded. She let the breath out. “Do all of you feel that way?”

There were a few murmured agreements from the crowd, some earnest, others more subdued. But Rainbow Dash stood up. “I don’t think so,” she said.

Twilight looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Really, Rainbow? I thought you were the one who blamed her for all of this to begin with.”

Dash nodded. “I… I don’t like Trixie. But we chased her out of town again. And for what, being a showoff? I’m a showoff.”

“She was a danger to the community!” Carrot Top said, turning around to glare at this complete lack of solidarity.

Dash met her, glare for glare. “Oh, please, your kid was the one that brought the Ursa to town, and everypony knows it.”

“They’re a child, they didn’t know any better!”

“Oh, yeah? Well maybe--” Dash caught Twilight’s expression and bit her tongue. “Maybe Trixie is dangerous. Maybe I am. Or Rarity, or Pinkie, or Spike. Heck, Twilight definitely is.”

The princess frowned, affronted. “Excuse me?”

“Twi, you built a giant robot last month. Giant. Robot.”

“...Fair point,” Twilight admitted.

“So should we leave town, too?” Dash asked. “We’ll have to take a lot of ponies with us. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, obviously. The Flower Shop Trio, ‘cause they keep causing stampedes. The cows, for the same reason. All us Elements of Harmony, Discord, Ditzy Doo, boy, I sure hope Zecora doesn’t mind having company out in the Everfree. Oh, and Snips and Snails, too. ‘Cause of the whole ‘Ursa’ thing, at least for a start.”

She glared around the room. “Don’t you get it? Ponyville’s as much a danger to itself as anypony outside it is. I look around, and all I can see are the ponies who rioted in the streets just to chase away one measly magician. I was part of that because I didn’t like her. Heck, I still don’t like her! But we screwed up. We're the ones who started this.”

Carrot had stopped listening, and was even now glancing about the room, ever more frantic. “My child. Snails! Where is Snails?”

***

Some half an hour previously, Trixie was running flat out down the streets of Ponyville, even outstripping the smoke bomb she had smashed to the ground. Buildings blurred as she raced past. It was only when she ducked to catch her breath under a bridge that she realized that the world was still quite blurry. She was rather exasperated to find herself crying yet again. She gave herself a mental box ‘round the ears and reminded herself that she had never meant to stay here to begin with and what did the opinions of the ponies here matter to her anyway? Nothing at all.

She made to grab a hoofkerchief from her cloak. The cloak that was still in her caravan. The cloak that she hadn’t worn for nearly a week. The cloak that she had left in a cupboard. The cloak that she hadn’t even looked at ever since-- ever since--

Her last little bit of self-control snapped like a toothpick trying to support a house on its tip and she broke down into paroxysms of sobbing, loud and uncontrolled, mucus oozing from her nose and eyes and matting her coat all down her cheeks, screaming into her hooves until her voice was raw. Then she wept. Silent, bitter tears rippled the brook she sat overlooking until she had no more tears left. And then she sat. She said nothing. She did nothing. She gazed at the running water. Her forehooves were crossed.

She probably would have stayed like that for some time if a little hoof hadn’t tapped her on the withers.

“Gah!” Trixie screamed, stumbling to her hooves.

“Gah!” screamed the trio of foals, cowering.

All parties took a moment to let their hearts slow and their respective dignities return.

Trixie managed to speak first. “Wait a moment. You-- and you-- and, uh, who are you?”

“Zipporwhill,” said the filly. “I’m Snips’ sister. And this is Ripley.”

Ripley thumped his tail against the ground at the sound of his name.

“Oh,” said Trixie, regarding the dog warily. She held out a shaky hoof. “Good… boy?”

Riley barked and leapt forward. Trixie shrieked as she was bowled over and quickly covered in puppy kisses. “No! Off off off get off!” she shouted.

The dog eventually took the hint and shifted his body weight off of her. Trixie sat back up, dazed. Her mane was stuck up in spikes. “Bleah,” she said, refocusing. “What do the three of you want of me? If you’ve come to chase me out of town, you’re too late. I’m already going.”

This didn’t have the expected effect on any of them. Snips and Snails drooped, and Zipporwhill frowned. Even Ripley stopped wagging his tail and cocked his head sorrowfully.

“But O Great and Powerful Trixie--” Snips began, but Trixie cut him off.

“Call me Beatrix,” she said. “Trixie was just a stage name.”

With those magic words, she was liberated. For the first time in years, the mask had fallen completely. Beatrix Lulamoon, not the Great and Powerful Trixie looked out at the world. She could finally be free from her old reputation, free from the weight of that thrice-cursed Alicorn Amulet, free from the albatross named ‘Ponyville’ that had hung around her neck ever since the first time she had left this town.

But it was hard to feel free when three children and their dog are looking at you like you’ve just shoved Holly Hooves off a snowy roof on Hearth’s Warming Eve. She shook herself. “You wanted to talk to Tri-- to me about something?” she asked.

They all exchanged looks. “Where are you gonna go now?” Snails asked.

Beatrix paused. That was a good question. She wouldn’t go back to Neigh Orleans and be her brother’s personal blood bank, not for all the chocolate in Reindeerdam. She couldn’t stay here, and facing up to Starlight or Thorax would just be asking to get dragged back into the same routine she’d only just escaped. Returning to the rock farm sounded like an even worse choice. Instead of answering, she trotted out from under the bridge into the light of the fading afternoon.

Beatrix stared up at the mountains outside of town and pointed with a hoof to one of the highest peaks not capped with snow. “There,” she declared. “I will travel to a cavern up on that point, and become a hermit. I will live out the rest of my days there, shunning equine company, living off of the vegetation that grows so sparsely. Perhaps in meditation, I will discover… discover…” she trailed off.

“Yourself?” Zipporwhill suggested.

“A pretty rock?” Snips tried.

“The meaning of what it means to be real, and if indeed anything exists at all, eh?”

“Peace,” Beatrix said at last. “She will find peace.”

Snips and Snails looked at each other. Zipporwhill looked at them both with apprehension. “Can we come, too?” Snips asked.

Zipporwhill smacked her face with a hoof.

Beatrix frowned. “What… what part of ‘shunning equine company’ was unclear?”

“We’ll be really quiet, eh.”

Beatrix shook her head. “Your kind words are appreciated. But I think that I’m in trouble enough as it is without accusations of foalnapping. Go back home, you three. Forget Trixie, forget me. She-- I’ve given you nothing more then trouble and pain.”

“Aw, come on, Miss Trixie,” Snails wheedled. “At least let us walk with you ‘til ya get there…”

Beatrix gnawed at her lower lip. “But then who would walk with you back through the Everfree?”

“You could!” Snips said brightly. “And then we could walk you back to your cave, and you could walk us back to Ponyville, and then we could walk you to your cave…”

Beatrix shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly.

“They won’t give up until you say yes,” Zipporwhill said. “Would you let us walk you to the border of the forest?”

“...Very well, to the border of the forest,” Beatrix conceded. “Though Trixie is-- I am-- surprised that any of you-- you two in particular-- would wish to spend time with me.”

Snips looked at Snails. Snails looked at Snips. “Well, we’re kinda surprised you didn’t tell us to go away,” Snips said.

“We kinda ruined your show that time…” Snails said quietly, looking down at their hooves. “With the Ursa, eh.”

Beatrix closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “That was a very long time ago. You did not know better. Nor did Trixie. I… I suppose that nothing that happened that night was entirely anypony’s fault, really.” She paused. “Is that what you came to tell me?”

Snips and Snails stayed silent. Zipporwhill, though, looked her right in the eye. “It’s not what I came to ask you,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Beatrix, did you start setting Ponyville on fire?”

She made a face like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “No! I wish ponies would stop asking Trixie that and actually try to find the real culprit.”

“Can you prove you didn’t do it?” Zipporwhill demanded.

Beatrix spasmed slightly. Ripley gave a warning growl and interposed himself between his mistress and the ex-magician. Beatrix took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No. I can’t. But I would never do something so phenomenally stupid, so potentially deadly as blowing up houses. Neither would Trixie.”

Zipporwhill nodded, relaxing and resting a hoof on Ripley’s head. In an instant, the dog was cheerfully panting once again. “Alright.”

Beatrix gave a sigh of utter relief. “If only your parents were half so easy to convince,” she said, shaking her head.

***

On the subject of the foals’ parents, they and the other rioters were still locked up in Twilight’s dungeon. Rainbow Dash had been let out of the cell, though not yet set free. This was partly because Twilight wanted her perspective on what had incited the riot and partly because nopony wanted to see her and Carrot Top get into a fight, particularly not in such close quarters.

Carrot herself, though, was in no state of mind for a fight. She was staring through the bars of the cell, clinging on as though for dear life. Somewhere out there, Snails was wandering around, totally unsupervised. Trixie was still at large. Any building might be her next target. Carrot Top’s stomach dropped. How long had it been since she had seen Snails? The hospital had been the last time she could recall. All this time, she’d been trying to protect her town, its children, but she had let her own slip through the cracks…

She could see that some of the others had similar concerns. Sea Breeze sat in a corner, almost catatonic save for her vibrating. Written had put down his quill and was gazing out through the cell door. Rarity was pacing up and down and worrying herself sick about her little sister.

Hooves sounded down the hallway, clear and sharp against the crystal floor. Several pairs of ears pricked up as they registered two distinct patterns of hoofbeats coming down the corridor. One was brisk and even, the other hurried and more erratic, the sound of a foal trying to keep up with a grown pony. Heads turned down the hallway. Was this to be their child, safe and sound?

Princess Twilight rounded the corner, lips pursed tightly. Hot on her hooves was Sweetie Belle, scrambling to keep up with the mare’s staccato steps. Most of the parents and caregivers looked away, losing themselves in worry once again. Rarity, though, lit up, all but throwing herself at the front of the cage. “Sweetie Belle! Thank Celestia you’re alright!”

Sweetie Belle did not return the affection, stepping back nervously. “Uh, hi, Rarity…”

Rarity’s smile fell. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”

Twilight was the one who replied. “Really, Rarity? You can’t think of what might possibly be upsetting her?”

Rarity’s face fell. “Oh. Ah. I see.” She tried to meet Sweetie’s eyes, but her sister wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Oh, Sweetie, I was only trying to protect you from that-- that mare. You and your friends, the whole town! I only wanted to make sure you were all safe.”

“Sure,” said Sweetie. “That’s why instead of visiting Button in the hospital with me, you stayed home to blow up the kitchen and frame Trixie for it.”

It was like a physical blow to the gut for Rarity. “You… heard?”

“Not all of it,” Sweetie admitted. “I didn’t think much about you knowing where Pinkie Pie kept her firework stash. But it all seemed a little too convenient.”

“I had the guards compare your kitchen to the other accident sites,” Twilight said quietly, not looking Rarity in the eye. “Lieutenant Sentry found the compounds in your oven were completely different to the others. So in addition to causing a breach of the peace, inciting to riot, and harassment, that’s probably insurance fraud as well.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, as though meditating.

Rarity nodded quietly. “I’ve done something terrible, haven’t I?”

“You have,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you had your reasons-- please, don’t,” she said as Rarity opened her mouth. “Please. I know you’re sorry, and I know you well enough to believe that you’re sincere. But right now, I just… can’t forgive you yet. I’ll see to it that you all get a fair trial.” She walked away. Her whole body was slumped inwards.

Rarity watched her go. Her face was a mask of horror set in bone china. She looked to Sweetie Belle. The filly was gone as well. “Oh, sweet Luna, what have I done?” she whispered.

***

The party of five made their way through the outskirts of Ponyville. The ash in the air stung their eyes and throats, but they pushed onwards and out into cleaner air, out into the gently rolling foothills beyond the edge of town. Beyond the hills lay the treeline; beyond the treeline, Snails informed her, was a zebra who could guide her; beyond that there was a new home.

It would be nice to live in the mountains. She had been in such places before, performing in Windy City, Mt. Aris, Manetou Springs, and on one memorable occasion, Yakyakistan. It was bracing there, and the sky was so clear, so blue. On some of the mountains Trixie had seen, you could look down and see clouds floating past, or look out and see for miles and miles before your eyes met the horizon. Just think of all the places you could see.

Don’t! Don’t think of that. Don’t think of going to other places, new places, old places, seeing ponies connecting with ponies performing to the thunder of the crowds. Just… don’t. Beatrix doesn’t do that. Beatrix stays home. Beatrix is quiet and complacent and too scared to speak up and “Gah!” Trixie growled, shaking her head to clear it.

She was suddenly aware that the others were all staring at her. “Uh, Great an’ Pow-- Beatrix,” Snails hastily amended. “Is something the matter?”

Beatrix shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“What about?” Zipporwhill asked, narrowing her eyes in thought.

“About-- about--” Beatrix cast around wildly. “What’s that building for?”

“Oh, that’s just the old Rumor Mill,” Snips said dismissively. “Where they make flour and stuff.”

Beatrix squinted at it. There was something very odd about that mill. “Why aren’t the windmill blades spinning?”

Snails shrugged. “No wind?” they guessed.

“Then why,” Beatrix continued, “is the machinery still working?”

Everypony fell silent. Sure enough, they could all hear the grinding of gears and cogs in the distance. “...Weird,” Zipporwhill said slowly. “I wonder what that could be?”

“Let’s check it out!” Snips said, bounding forwards.

“Wait!” Snails said. “What about Tr-- Beatrix? We’re still taking her to the forest, right?”  
Beatrix turned her head back to the mountains and hesitated. The rest of her life was an awfully long time… “The mountains are not going anywhere,” she decided. “Trix-- I would like to see what’s going on at the old mill myself.”

Snails shrugged and gave a sweet, lazy smile. “Okay.”

Snips, Zipporwhill, and Ripley raced ahead, while Trixie and Snails trotted on at a more leisurely pace. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask me earlier?” Trixie asked.

Snails blinked. “Uh, what d’you mean?”

“You came to ask me something, but changed your mind at the last minute. What was it really?”

Snails ducked their head. “You’ll think it’s silly,” they murmured. “You won’t like it.”

Beatrix rubbed their green mane playfully. “I think I can manage, somehow,” she said lightly.

Snails sighed and looked up at the sky, searching for the words they needed. “We wanted to know how long you were gonna stay in Ponyville, an’ if you wanted any assistants for your show if you were, eh? Me an’ Snips were so excited when you got back.”

Beatrix stared. “But why?” she asked. “I was horrible to Ponyville. I was really horrible to the two of you. Why don’t you hate me?”

Snails shrugged. “Dunno. You’re pretty nice ‘n’ stuff. Miz Zecora told us about how that Amulet corrupted a whole bunch of ponies, an’ zebras, an’ griffons, an’ stuff. It gets in your mind, eh? Twists it. Ponies start to think about all the terrible stuff they wanna do, an’ they do it.”

“Exactly,” Beatrix said. “Trixie-- I-- Trixie-- it shows you who I really am, doesn’t it?”

Snails nodded. “Yup. Lots better than a buncha other ponies with it.”

That stopped Beatrix dead. “Miz Cheerilee said lotsa ponies think Sombra had it first,” Snails went on. “An’ Roches Pierre had it in the Prench Revolution, an’ Griffon settlers with it tried to take over Zebrawe, an--”

Beatrix stopped listening. “It twists your own thoughts, you said?”

Snails nodded. “Uh-huh. So that means--”

Beatrix had gone very pale. “All this time, I thought those thoughts were just leftover from the Amulet. But they’re coming-- from me?”

“Miz Tri-- Lulamoon,” Snails tried, but before they could say more, the rest of the group came running back, eyes wide.

“You guys!” Snips said, breathing heavily. “You gotta see what they’ve got in there!”

Beatrix and Snails exchanged a look. Then, the entire group galloped toward the old Rumor Mill.

***

Rainbow Dash sat in a separate cell, slumped on a wooden chair by a long lab bench. The door wasn’t locked, but there were a couple of guards outside. Twilight had explained, much less harshly than Dash would’ve expected, that she was free to move about the dungeon-slash-lab-slash-basement as she pleased, but the guards would be coming with her. Dash had nodded and replied something about agreeing, but she hadn’t really been listening. It didn’t really matter. She didn’t feel like going anywhere. She felt nauseous and miserable, like the time she’d taken on Pinkie’s challenge of a pie-eating competition. She kicked the table meditatively.

The door opened and Pinkie herself trotted in. “Hiya, Dashie,” she said. If she sounded a little less chirpy than usual, Rainbow couldn't blame her. She sat down at one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table. “You wanna cupcake?”

Dash shrugged. She didn’t really feel like eating, but she didn’t want to hurt Pinkie’s feelings, either.

Pinkie fished in her mane and pulled out a chocolate cupcake. She held it up to the light, then abruptly threw it to the ground. “No cupcake for you!”

Dash jolted backwards at the sudden intensity. “Pinkie, what the--”

“Well, I wanted to play good cop, bad cop, but I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to be, so I decided I could be both!” Pinkie said brightly. “I hope you had a nice day, criminal scum!”

Dash blinked. “Uh…”

Pinkie leaned in. “Don’t worry,” she stage-whispered. “I don’t think you’re criminal scum, Dashie. It’s only pretend.”

“Oh,” said Dash, now completely lost. “Good.”

“And bad!” Pinkie cried happily, leaning back in her chair.

“Pinkie, I thought we agreed that we would do this my way,” Twilight said, trotting in.

“We did,” Pinkie admitted. “But I wanted to try my way out, first.”

Twilight sighed and plopped down into the other available chair. “Is Mac coming, too?” Dash asked.

“No. He and Applejack are organizing search parties for Snips, Snails, Zipporwhill, and Trixie.”

Pinkie frowned. “Aw! How come I don’t get to organize parties?”

“Pinkie, I understand that you’re trying to make me laugh, but it has been a very long day, and I am not up for that right now. Okay?”

Pinkie’s mane deflated halfway, but she nodded. “Okay, Twilight.”

“Thank you.” Twilight turned her attention to Rainbow Dash. “So. Dash.”

“How much trouble am I in?” Dash asked, not meeting her friend’s eye.

Twilight shrugged. “Not that much, actually. You were just sort of the source of the idea that Trixie was the arsonist. Which, obviously, wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but you aren’t the cause of…” she waved a hoof in the air. “This.”

Dash grunted. Twilight’s voice softened. “Alright, let’s put it another way. You got angry and screwed up. A lot of the rioters got angry and screwed up much worse. Carrot Top and Rarity got angry and carefully planned out an intentional attack, which is malice aforethought and much, much worse than yelling something stupid in public.”

“Gee, thanks, Twilight. That makes me feel a lot better,” Dash snarked.

“Rainbow. Day. Long. Temper. Short,” Twilight said. "I'm trying to make you feel better, so if you could try to work with me, that would be great."

There was silence. Then Pinkie spoke. “Why don’t you like Trixie, Rainbow?”

Dash opened her mouth to respond. “Don’t talk about what she’s done,” Pinkie continued quickly. “Like you said in the cell, we’ve all hurt ponies before. Talk about why you don’t like who she is.”

Dash closed her mouth and sat silently for a long minute, thinking deeply and kicking the table. After a long silence, she spoke. “She’s a showoff.”

Twilight frowned and was about to speak, but Pinkie held up a hoof. “She doesn’t care about anypony but herself, a lot of the time,” Dash said, warming to the subject. “She’s always gotta be the best, even when she obviously isn’t, and she’s gotta prove it to everypony no matter what. And she’s always yelling! You can’t ignore her, and she’s got an ego, like, the size of the moon. And-- and--” Dash broke off, eyes wide. “She’s just like me…”


	11. Breakthru

Rainbow looked from Twilight to Pinkie. “She really is, isn’t she?”

Twilight hemmed and hawed. “Well, yes,” she admitted.

Dash groaned and leaned back. “Come on, Twi, don’t hold back on my account,” she said.

Twilight glared at Pinkie. “Were you going anywhere with this?” she demanded.

Pinkie nodded cheerfully. “Yep!” She turned to Rainbow. “She’s a lot like you. You talked about a lot of bad stuff you have in common, but there’s also a ton of good stuff! You’re both self-confident. You’re both talented, and determined, and loyal.”

“Loyal?” Twilight asked, frowning. “What makes you say Trixie’s particularly loyal?”

Pinkie looked at her as though it ought to be obvious. “She was gonna walk to Canterlot through the Everfree in the middle of a storm just to see Glimmy! That’s a pretty strong bond.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “Huh. I always thought she was more like me.”

“She is,” Pinkie agreed. “Both of you are good at magic, cunning, and curious, but you both also kinda tend to be a little impulsive.”

Twilight bit her tongue to keep from retorting, but Pinkie was already continuing. “She’s hardworking like Applejack, but they’re both really stubborn, and she’s creative like Rarity, but they can both be a little bit over-the-top.” She thought for a minute. “I don’t think she and Fluttershy have a lot in common, but they never really clashed, either.”

“What about you?” Dash asked, oddly compelled.

Pinkie shrugged. “We’re both entertainers, but we both can get so caught up in our show that we can be sometimes kinda insensitive. And for awhile, I thought she was just a big rude meanie-pants because all I could see was how much she hurt all of you girls. But then I started to realize how much like her I could be sometimes, and that helped me see that she wasn’t that different from me. And Ma and Pa and Marble and Limestone all wrote me letters about how she worked on the farm, and that helped me learn more about her.”

“So… what’s your point?” Dash asked.

Pinkie stared up at the ceiling, contemplating. “I think,” she said thoughtfully, “that sometimes it’s easier to see the bad in ourselves than the good, but we can’t face up to it. So when we see that bad quality in others, we’re that much harder on it. Because that’s easier. We need to face up to our own problems before we can truly see other ponies for who they are.”

Dash stared. Twilight’s mouth hung agape. Pinkie shrugged. “Or maybe we just got a bad first impression and didn’t wanna admit that we might’ve been wrong. I’m just spit-balling, here.” She pulled out a straw and blew a gooey wad of paper onto one of the guards’ crested helmets.

 

***

Spike walked silently, or as silently as a four-meter-tall dragon can walk. Next to him, Big Macintosh looked positively petite. A breeze blew down the still and abandoned street. It was hot and sour, like milk left in the sun. The dragon and the pony were one of eight search teams that had set out to find Trixie and the missing foals. Under normal circumstances, Spike would have been delighted to be out walking with his friend and fellow RPG dork.

These were not normal circumstances. Spike was brooding. He wanted to be alone, Mac could tell. He did his best to communicate a sense of camaraderie and moral support. Unfortunately, Spike was not as good at reading silence as Cheerilee was, and the dragon continued to radiate an aura of deepest concern. No, not concern-- sorrow.

At length, even Mac could no longer bear the silence. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Spike stirred. “Talk about what?”

Mac just stared at him flatly and Spike huffed. “It’s about Rarity.”

“Aha,” Mac said.

“She chased Trixie out of town.”

“Eeyup. Ah was there.”

“See, that strikes me as being a bad thing to do.”

“Eeyup.”

“I’m not real happy that she did that.”

“Nope.”

“And I’m kinda happy that Twi locked her and the other rioters up.”

“Eeyup.”

“But I still love her.”

“Oh.” Mac gave this some thought. “So?”

“So, what do I do now?” Spike asked. “I mean, what she’s done is terrible, right? Can I love her even though she hurt somepony like that? I mean, I know she can be better than that. I’ve seen her be better than that. But she can also do some pretty terrible stuff.”

“Hm,” said Mac. He wasn’t very experienced in this field. His only practical expertise with romance was the Love Poison incident, and his long-term crush on Twilight Sparkle. He didn’t think either would be very useful. So he decided to take a page out of Applejack’s book and go for confusing, but wise-sounding, down-home wisdom that was nevertheless as neutral as possible. “Ah reckon yer th’ only one can decide what comes next.”

“...Yeah, okay. But how do I do that?”

Mac frowned and raised the folksy wisdom a few notches. “If ya don’t plant seeds in spring, don’t complain when th’ pigs ain’t fed in fall.”

“Huh?”

“Ya can’t water a crop if th’ well is dry,” Mac tried, sweat beading his brow.

“I almost understood that.”

Mac went for broke. “Figger out how you feel ‘bout her. If you’re both in love, y’all can work through this together.”

Spike sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But what do I say to her? What can I say to her?”

Mac was silent.

 

***

As Beatrix and the foals approached the factory, the grass began to turn crunchier and brown. Snails waved a hoof in an attempt to combat the sudden wave of heat that had washed over the group.

Beatrix wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. “Yech! It smells like burnt toast.”

“And sour milk,” Zipporwhill agreed, putting a hoof over her muzzle.

“I think my nose just died of sadness,” Snails whimpered.

Ripley gave a low, keening, whine, but continued with the rest of the group towards the old Rumor Mill. “This doesn’t look like it was passed by any safety committees,” Trixie said, staring up at the building. Indeed, the mill looked dilapidated. Paint was peeling from the walls, and the blades of the windmill were crooked. Some of the windows were broken, and the thatched roof was moldering.

Snails stared at it, confused. “Uh, I thought it was in a lot better condition than this, eh? Didn’t look like this when we came up here for that field trip back in, um…”

“Last month,” said Zipporwhill grimly. “Two weeks after it was remodeled.”

Beatrix’s mouth curled downwards into a moue of confusion and disapproval. “How could a building fall so far so quickly?” she asked.

“I dunno, but that’s not what you need to see,” Snips said, pointing at a large plate of glass that had been scuffed and chipped with the wear of what looked like over a decade.

Beatrix peered in through the window to the factory floor and gasped. The work stations were abandoned, burning merrily. The few ponies that were in sight sat slumped over in corners, silently sobbing. One rose shakily to her hooves and took a few steps toward a fire extinguisher, but she collapsed in a heap, weeping.

A lone delivery colt trundled through the mires of despair, hunched over his delivery cart as though it were the only thing keeping him from joining the others in their misery. For all Beatrix knew, it was.

“What,” she said, “in Tartarus is going on in there?”

She turned to the foals. “We have to go back to Ponyville, tell the princess!”

“You were run out of Ponyville,” Zipporwhill reminded her.

Trixie cast around wildly. “Then go without me. I’ll go in and see if I can find out what’s causing this!”

Zipporwhill nodded shortly and gave a high whistle. Ripley perked up, and he ran with his mistress back toward the town.

Trixie looked at Snips and Snails. “Well, what are you two waiting for? Go!”

Snips looked up at her beseechingly. “Aw, c’mon, Miss Tr-- Lulamoon, we wanna help! Zip can make it on her own.”

Trixie boggled. “Are you--” she began to shout before catching herself.

“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “This building looks like it could collapse at any minute! Trixie is not about to endanger two foals like that! Go home, get help!”

Snails smiled up at her. “If you don’t let us come with you, we’ll just go in by ourselves, eh?” they pointed out.

Trixie sputtered for a moment, furiously indignant. Then, she deflated. “You would, wouldn’t you?” she said morosely. “Fine. Come along. At least this way, Trix--  _I_  can keep an eye on the two of you.”

Snips and Snails started to cheer. “And for pity’s sake be quiet!”

“Yay!” Snips rasped.

“Woohoo!” whispered Snails.

“Ugh,” said Beatrix, and she led them around the back of the building. Unnoticed by any of them, the red and puffy eyes of the workers stared through the big bay window, following the trio as they trotted out of sight.

 

***

Beatrix peered around the corner of the mill to the transport bay. Carts lay unattended. Some of them had tipped onto their sides. Some were on fire. Some seemed to be rotting away before her eyes. But there was nopony around. She slipped out from the cover of shadow, Snips and Snails hugging tight to her flanks like frightened puppies.

She looked at them and felt a rush of affection. They had stayed for her, despite their fear, in a noble gesture of courage and friendship. An utterly stupid gesture, mind you, but a noble one nonetheless. “Come on,” she said. “Nearly in.”

The three picked their way through the wreckage of the bay to a side door. Trixie examined it carefully. If the hinges were to creak, she thought, their position would be obvious immediately. Of course, there was the possibility that whatever was causing this wave of destruction wasn’t actually sapient. There was also the possibility that it was virtually omniscient and already knew her every thought. She decided to do her best to be silent regardless, to move with secrecy and stealth.

Carefully, she lifted the door up from where it slumped, just enough to reduce the pressure. It floated in her aura for just a moment before the whole section of wall around it cracked and fell backwards in a shower of rock dust, shattering on the floor.

Beatrix blinked the dust from her eyes, still holding the door aloft. Gently, she set it down against a flaming chariot. Secrecy and stealth, she reminded herself, then slipped in through the hole.

It was very dark inside the mill. The only light provided came from the random small fires that seemed to burn quite merrily without consuming any new fuel sources. That was a mystery for later, though. The three ponies made their way down the halls, the floorboards creaking under their hooves.

Trixie held up a hoof. Snips and Snails halted. She motioned to the floor along the walls and made a shushing motion. The floorboards there tended to be less creaky. She wasn’t sure if the foals understood her, exactly, but they fell in line behind her as she led them along, hugging the wall as though skirting the edge of a cliff.

“Hsst!” Snips said. Trixie halted and turned to look at him. The colt nodded to a door on the other side of the hall. A plaque on the door read,  _Miss Scuttlebutt, Manager._  Hanging by a thread underneath like some kind of sick joke, a colorful sign read,  _World’s Best Boss._

Behind the door, all three could hear a sort of rhythmic creaking, like an elderly rocking chair. Trixie took a large step to the other wall and quickly pressed herself flat against it. Snips and Snails looked at each other and attempted to copy her, but their attempts at creeping made them look like they were attempting to imitate spiders. Badly.

Trixie nudged the door open and peered in. She could see only blackness. She lit her horn and immediately reeled back.

The pale pinkish light illuminated a mare, staring straight ahead, eyes dead. She was sat in a chair behind a rotting desk, rocking back and forth. She was mouthing something quietly. The three filed into the room slowly. Snips stifled a shout when he saw the mare, and Snails wobbled on their hooves. She had clearly been there for some time. Her mane was mildewed, and she was covered in cobwebs.

“What happened to her?” Snips asked.

“Trixie doesn’t know. Same thing that happened to the workers, she guesses, but worse.” Trixie moved closer to the mare. She could almost hear what she was saying, now.

Snails looked around the office. The portraits that had once hung there had rotted. The filing cabinets had rusted. The pot plants hadn’t so much died as simply flopped over, waiting for the end as much as the workers were. Everything was in a state of decay. Then, something caught their eye. A gleam of pure white in the midst of the ruins. They pulled it out and squinted at it minutely. “Snips, I think my reading trouble is really bad right now,” they said. “Can you help me?”

The green colt wandered over to his friend’s side and peered at the paper. “Uh, Snails, buddy, I don’t think that’s Equish.”

Trixie, meanwhile, had her ear almost to Ms. Scuttlebutt’s mouth, and still she strained to hear the words.

_All my fault_

_Never should’ve signed_

_All gone_

_All my fault…_

Trixie frowned. “Signed what?”

She looked up. “What’s that you two have?”

“Just some piece of paper,” Snails said, tossing it aside.

Cold fear stabbed Beatrix’s heart, and she snatched the page out of the air and brought it towards her telekinetically. As soon as she saw the writing, she felt her heart stop. “Do you know what this is?” she demanded.

Snips looked at Snails. Snails looked at Snips.

“No.”

“Uh-uh.”

Beatrix scanned the writing. “This is Ancient Unicornian script,” she said. “One of the three main languages besides Pegasopolitin and Earthic that turned into modern Equish.”

“So… that paper’s really old?” Snails guessed.

“No. I’d say it’s-- how long ago did you say the renovations on this building were?”

Snips thought about that. “I guess two months ago? That’s when they started.”

“Then I would say that this paper has been around perhaps a week more than two months. He works fast.”

“Who’s ‘he’?” Snips asked.

Beatrix let her eyes trail down to the bottom of the page. There were three signatures there, though one of them would have been easily mistaken for a seal-- that was a spirit’s signature. The second one was Ms. Scuttlebutt’s. The third… “My brother,” she said quietly. “My brother did this.”

 

***

Zipporwhill had more than a few issues with her mom. The mare was clingy to the point of smothering, easily swayed, and always nervous. But she was always grateful that her mother had been the one who had taught her to fly. She buzzed into town like a hummingbird, Ripley racing to keep up. Since nopony was out on the streets, she barely needed to dodge at all, and she made for the castle like an arrow. She saw it drawing ever nearer.

She saw the guards at the door reach for their spears.

She skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps.

The guards relaxed, and Zipporwhill hurried up the steps toward them. “I need to see the princess!” she said, wings vibrating with nerves.

The guard on her left shook her head. “Sorry, kid, take a number. She’s going to be in meetings all afternoon.”

“But this is important!”

“So are her scheduled meetings,” the guard on her right said sternly. “There’s going to be more cleanup than usual for this particular accident, especially if the arsonist is still on the loose.”

Zipporwhill’s wings buzzed faster in agitation. “Can you at least give her a message?” she asked after a moment.

The guard on the right frowned, but his partner nodded. “Yes, I think we can do that. Hey, Lieutenant!”

An orange pegasus looked up from where he was busily playing Solitaire. “Sergeant Argent?”

“This filly needs a message taken to the princess.”

The pegasus nodded and beckoned Zipporwhill over. “Hey, kid. My name’s Flash, and I’ll be your personal messaging service today.” He grinned. She didn’t grin back.

“...Right. So, what do you want to tell the princess?”

 

***

Twilight leaned over the table. “Brigadier, I’m telling you, I don’t want more permanent troops stationed in Ponyville. I don’t want _any_ permanent troops stationed in Ponyville!”

Brigadier Bombarder leaned across the table, scowling. “And I don’t want to have to haul my squad all the way from Canterlot when something like this happens!” she said shortly. “You haven’t got a squadron of guards, you haven’t got any protection at all! You’re right next to the Everfree, for pity’s sake!”

“No defenses? I have my friends!”

“Yeah, sure, great--”

“And a castle full of arcane magics.”

The alicorn princess and the zebra brigadier glared at each other across the table. There was a knock at the door. “Go away!” they both shouted.

Flash winced, but opened the door anyway. It took all of his training, but he managed to keep his composure under the combined withering stares of his boss and the princess who he had once dated for about a month. “Sorry, ma’am. Ma’ams. But, um, you did order me to tell you if anypony gave us a lead about the missing ponies or the arsons.”

The glares lessened. “Well, which is it then, man?” the Brig demanded.

“Well,” said Flash. “Both, technically.”

 

***

Within ten minutes, the castle was hopping with activity. Brigadier Bombarder was ordering her troops to muster, and Twilight was trying to round up Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash down in the dungeon, where Pinkie had dug out an old sno-cone machine. Twilight dragged the duo and their tottering towers of flavored ice along in her wake. “Twilight, hold on!” Pinkie said. “What about the others?”

“Fluttershy’s locked herself in her cottage, and Applejack’s in a search party,” Twilight said shortly, dragging them along. “We don’t have time to get them.”

“What about Rarity?”

That stopped Twilight dead. She quickly weighed up the sides in her head. It was another friend and ally on their side, and one that was immediately accessible. On the other hoof, they were going to go and find the mare that Rarity had just run out of town. Could she trust her not to do the same again?

Her conversation with Trixie floated back to her. _Friendship isn’t all about blind agreement. It’s about caring for each other enough to work out those disagreements that come up._ Rarity had been there for her time and again. Twilight knew that her trust in the unicorn had rarely been misplaced. “Dash, catch,” she said, tossing over the keys. “Get Rarity out of the cell. Nopony else, though.”

Dash frowned. “Uh, you sure?”

“She won’t be getting away with what she did, but we need all the help we can get. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, alright then.” Dash zipped off.

“Pinkie, I want you to keep an eye on both of them,” Twilight said.

“Aw, don’t you trust them?”

Twilight slumped. “In general? With my life. But today, they’ve both made some very poor choices, and I don’t think that’s something we can afford.”

Pinkie deflated a little too, but she nodded. “You can count on me, Twily!”

Twilight smiled. “I know I can, Pinkie. I know I can.”

 

***

“You have a brother?”

“Is he Great and Powerful, too?”

“How did he do all this?”

“Not a nice guy, eh?”

Beatrix shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Or… maybe I do. What happened during the remodel?”

Snails blinked at her blankly. “Iunno.”

Snips screwed up his face in Herculean effort. “We went on a tour here for a field trip…” he said slowly. “And we saw the flour-bagging station, and the carts, and… oh yeah! The new crusher!”

Snails smiled. “Oh, right! That was cool.”

“The new what?” Beatrix asked.

“The crusher!” Snips repeated. “The thing that crushes the wheat into flour. I don’t think that’s what it’s actually called, but it sure was cool to look at.”

Beatrix frowned. “Hm. That sounds like a lead. Can you show it to me?”

“Sure!” said Snips. “It’s right behind the big windmill, I bet it’s just down the hall! C’mon!”

He hurried out into the hall. “Miss Lulamoon?” Snails asked. “What did that paper say?”

“I don’t know,” Beatrix admitted as the two of them followed Snips out. “But it was definitely my brother’s signature, and this looks like one of his contracts. I wish I could read it. It might give us an idea of what we’re facing.”

 

***

As Snips had predicted, the crusher wasn’t more than a five minutes’ trot from the manager’s office. Trixie would have described it more as a grinder. But, Beatrix reminded herself forcefully, Trixie wasn’t there anymore. She was a mask, a disguise, and Beatrix couldn’t hide herself away any longer.

It was a fairly large room, consisting of a narrow ledge circling around a pit. Six ponies, lined up nose-to-tail, might have been just enough to stretch from the wall of the pit to its center, where a long, L-shaped rod ran down from the ceiling. Attached to the end of the rod was a millstone, the whole contraption moving around in slow cycles.

Beatrix looked around the room. “Yes, this looks like my brother’s work, alright.”

“It’s sure fancy,” Snails said, looking around at the white walls of carved stones. It was gorgeous. A perfect dome of what looked like, but almost certainly wasn’t, marble. Shining, shimmering gears. A gilt guardrail. Even the millstone was banded round with a thin piece of polished iron.

Beatrix nodded “Yes. My brother certainly is” a flash bastard “fond of ornamentation.”

She paused, looked around again. “Hold on. Something is wrong.”

Snips frowned. “Huh?”

Snails crinkled up their brow in concentration. “It’s pristine,” Beatrix said. “Everything else is rotting or burning or collapsing, but this room looks like it’s brand new.”

“Hey, yeah!” Snips said, nodding. “What coulda done that?”

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Beatrix said grimly, staring at the millstone. In the silver band, glittering runes flashed red as it completed another circuit. “Those are warlock’s glyphs, used to make a spirit do your bidding. And do you see the faint marks in the walls?”

Snips and Snails looked around. “Protective binding runes,” Beatrix lectured. “Used to keep nasties trapped in a nice chalk circle.”

“Uh, what chalk, Miss Lulamoon?”

“Mixed in with the grout. Oh yes, this is Evening’s work, alright. He was always” a showoff malcontent maverick with no respect “clever like that.”

“Can you read them?” Snails asked.

Beatrix frowned. “Perhaps. I’ve seen enough of them to know what they mean, more or less. The protective runes can be left alone, they mostly say  _keep out_  in a variety of ways. But I’d like to know what this summoning is all about.”

She hopped over the rail as the millstone passed by. “There are three things you need to perform a proper summoning,” she said. She should know. Her brother had said it often enough during her childhood. “Any guesses on what they are?”

Silence. “Uh… a spirit?”

“A summoner?”

Trixie stopped dead. “Technically correct. Alright, there are five things you need to perform a summons correctly. Number one, a circle. Obvious enough, it’s the whole room.”

She hopped on the bent-out part of the rod as it swung towards her, letting it take her on a ride as it continued to cycle around.

“Number two, an offering. Not sure what that is. Probably something in this room, something that was just installed when all this started. Look for anything unusual, anything that wasn’t here when you were here last time.” This was usually the point where Evening would cast his hoof in her direction. If he was in a hurry, the scalpel would already be in it.

“Last part, a conduit,” Trixie said. She paused. Why was she still thinking of herself as Trixie? Stupid, stupid Beatrix! Trixie was dead and gone, an evaporated imaginary friend.

“Uh, what’s a conduit?” Snips asked.

“Something that conducts the spirit well,” Trixie said, distracted. “Something with lots of emotional power, usually. Probably this.” She pointed at the iron band around the millstone. “Iron, metal of fire and rust. A good choice for summoning whatever decay spirit is at work here, but it needed something more. Hence, runes. Probably a literary quote, or a poem.”

The runes flashed red again, and Trixie quickly looked over at them. She had already missed the first few, but that was okay. She could see them on the next cycle. “Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?” she read. A hot, dry wave swept the room

“Or fester like a sore— And then run?” Snips and Snails felt their skin crawl as phantom blisters touched their skin.

“Does it stink like rotten meat?” Beatrix read, and a wretched odor filled the room. Snails turned away. That’s when they saw it. The thing that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey, Miss Lulamoon!” they called, grabbing the anomalous object from where it had been sat at the doorframe. But she paid him no heed, hypnotized by the verse.

“Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet?”

A saccharine taste filled the room, their mouths, their nostrils. It stung their eyes and turned their stomachs. “Miss Lulamoon, I found the offering!” Snails yelled, waving it in the air.

Snips looked at him. “Hold on. That fabric, isn’t that--”

“Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.”

Snips was cut off as the sickly-sweet stink solidified in his gut and slammed him to the floor through its sheer weight. Beside him, Snails’s legs buckled and they fell gracelessly on their face, sending the offering flying. The little blue pony doll, clad in star-spangled scraps of pale purple, fell into the pit.

“ _Or does it explode?_ ”  
There was a rush of light and heat, and Beatrix was thrown to the floor like a ragdoll. Her vision went dark and blurry. Her head was swimming. The last thing she saw before she blacked out completely was the flash of red runes.  _What happens to a dream deferred?_ echoed in the sudden emptiness of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem used is "Harlem" by Langston Hughes.


	12. Another One Bites the Dust

Beatrix stirred. The toffee-thick darkness swirled away, sloughing off her mind and eyes. When she sat up again, bleary and dazed, she didn’t immediately notice the changes that had taken place in the room. Bit by bit, though, she noticed that things seemed a little off. Snips and Snails, at the very least, seemed unchanged, though they too seemed to have been knocked for six by the blast that had gone off.

Everything else seemed to have transformed, though. The air had taken on a sour, smoky tang; out of the corner of her eye, she could see halos of rainbows, tinted dark and grimy. All the runes and sigils scratched around the room were glowing shades of red and orange and brown, and all the hardware that had gone into making the room, from the walls to the fencing to the millstone, seemed faded in every sense. They looked as though they had turned into a pale mist. And there, on the far side of the pit, was… Trixie.

It was undeniably her. Sure, the hat and cloak had seen much better days. Yes, the mane was singed. Certainly there were a lot more bruises than you’d ever expect to see on a pony not being tended by paramedics. But it was definitely her. The swagger was unmistakable.

Trixie looked up and saw Beatrix for the first time. Her reaction was immediate. Her lip twisted into a scowl. “Base coward,” she spat. “Fool, weakling, traitoress, screw thy dam!”

Beatrix took a moment to formulate a reply, but she kept it concise. “Huh?”

“Wha--” said Snails, struggling to their feet. They blinked. “Hey, Snips?”

“Go ‘way, lemme sleep.”

“Snips, I’m seeing double, eh? Either that, or there’s two Trixies.”

“There’s only one Trixie here, and that’s me,” Trixie snapped. “This-- this spineless craven, so low Trixie would have to debase herself even to puke upon, has stolen Trixie’s Trixie!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Beatrix said acidly. She was feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, and her mood was in the toilet anyway. “I’m the original. I made you up, you’re just a stage name and a costume change.”

“The original?” Trixie scoffed. “Please. You’re the prototype.”

Snails boggled. “I’m confused,” they groaned. “Which one of you is real?”

“I am!” both mares shouted at once. “No, I am!” They glared at one another.

“Very well,” Trixie said at last. “Since this thief seems to be going nowhere, we will need a way to distinguish one from the other. Trixie will be Trixie Superior, and this will be Trixie Inferior.”

“I’m Beatrix,” Beatrix said firmly. “No Trixie at all.”

This seemed to leave her double stunned, at least for a moment. Snips took the opportunity to cut into the conversation. “What’s going on?” he asked plaintively. “What happened?”

Beatrix pursed her lips and glanced away. Almost immediately, Trixie’s swagger had returned with a vengeance. “Miss Priss over there boosted the power of the conduit,” she said smugly. “While it simply rolled along, the poem recited itself only to itself, without an audience. But when read aloud…”

“The real-time emotional reactions made the spirit more powerful,” Beatrix finished. “Leaving us in this limbo-state.”

“Huh?” said Snails.

“You’re stuck in the circle with Trixie,” Trixie translated. “And him.”

“Him?” Snips asked. “Who, me?”

“Ah-ah-ah! Grammar!” Trixie frowned at the colt, half-serious. “Trixie was using the collective ‘you’. You are all-- along with Trixie-- trapped with Evening Glow's little pet.”

"For the last time," a voice snarled from somewhere in the darkness. "I am no  _pet_!"

On that last word, a figure lunged forward out of the miasma of shadows and landed in the middle of the floor.

***

It was an odd sight, even for Ponyville, to see the guards advance up the hill to Rumor Mill. Near the front, Twilight, Rainbow, Pinkie, and Rarity trotted along behind Brigadier Bombardier. That is to say, the first three trotted. Rarity slunk along, wearing sunglasses and a dark scarf. Nopony was sure where the clothes had come from. Nopony asked, either. There were more pressing concerns.

“So, Brigadier,” Twilight said. “What’s the plan?”

Bombardier frowned, more out of reflex than any emotion. “As of right now, this is a strictly observational affair,” she said. “We go, we see how much of that filly’s story was true, and then we make a plan based on gathered intelligence.” She cast a suspicious look at Twilight. “That means we don’t go in horns blazing, or trying to make friends with everything in sight. Understood?”

Twilight’s lips pursed in displeasure. “Very good, Brigadier,” she said shortly. “I’m always ready to support the gathering of information.”

Bombardier, however, had already turned her attentions elsewhere. There were shouts of pain and confusion coming from the front of the advancing troops. “Something’s wrong,” she said, breaking into a quick trot. Twilight and the others followed close behind.

As they drew closer to the front, Dash waved a hoof in front of her face. “Jeez. Is it just me, or is it really hot out here?”

Rarity sniffed the air gingerly, then scrunched her nose in revulsion. “Ugh! Something smells like rotten eggs.”

Twilight’s eyes widened and she met Brigadier Bombardier’s gaze. “Sulfur,” they said as one before racing onwards, Twilight pushing guards out of the way with great swathes of magic.

It took them only a minute to reach the front of the pack. Even if the obstacle was invisible, its border was clear. In a vast circle around the Rumor Mill, perhaps fifty meters in radius, all the grass was dead. Several guards stood nursing burn wounds on their hooves and faces. “Heat barrier,” Twilight said.

“Can you get through it?” the Brigadier asked.

Twilight considered that for a long moment. “Given time, yes,” she said at length. “I take it the plan has changed?”

The Brigadier nodded curtly. “If that filly was right about those other ponies being in there, this is now an act of aggression. What’s more, it’s a hostage situation. Time may not be in any great supply, your highness.”

***

The spirit was large, over twice the size of a normal pony. That wasn’t good; size and power tended to correlate in the spirit realms. It was vaguely pony-shaped, but its legs were spindly and pointed, and its lank, greasy black mane shrouded its features. The only part of its face that could be discerned were its brilliant gamboge eyes that seemed to burn through anything and everything. “I am no pet,” it repeated in a lower, calmer growl. “No mortal may possess one such as I. I am Despair, little mare, and I am your doom.”

“Pfft,” Trixie scoffed. “The GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE can yell just as loud as you can, Dezzy.”

“Do not. Call me. Dezzy,” Despair growled at her.

“Whatever you say,” Trixie said with a shrug. “Though Trixie thinks you’re starting to sound more desperate than despairing.”

The spirit’s shoulders hunched inwards as it shook in sheer fury. “I will take great pleasure in destroying you,” it snarled, and the idea of teeth, long and sharp and yellow, caught in the minds of everypony in the room.

Trixie examined her hooves. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Beatrix looked wildly from one to the other. “It’s threatening to kill you, you idiot! Don’t you think you should be a little more worried?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “If he hadn’t been threatening Trixie for the last four days, sure,” she said. “But he has no power in the circle. Even those two could overpower him with a hoof tied behind their back.”

Snails gasped. “The Great and Powerful Trixie noticed us!” they said dreamily.

“You go, Trixie!” Snips shouted.

Despair waved a hoof as if to swat away a fly. Trixie flew back and bounced off the wall like a rubber ball, then landed with a heavy thump on the ground. Silence reigned. Then, slowly, shakily, Trixie stood back up. “Ish dat--” she paused, spat out a tooth. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Oh-kay!” Beatrix said brightly. “Hey, Trixie, maybe don’t antagonize the being of immense power over there, alright?”

“Pff. Nothing he does lasts very long,” Trixie said dismissively. “If it did, Trixie would probably be a thick paste by now. Why do you care, anyway, you two faced harlot?”

Snips frowned. “Hey, that’s not very nice. What did Beatrix ever do to you? Uh, herself? Uh, I mean…” he trailed off, utterly befuddled.

“Look, Trixie, you’re my alter-ego,” Beatrix said, gently as she could. “In some weird way, you are me, and I’m you.”

“And we are all together?” Trixie sniffed imperiously. “Spare Trixie the goo-goo-gajoob, why don’t you?”

“Miss Trixie, I don’t understand,” Snails said plaintively. “What’re you talking about?”

“Unsurprising,” Despair said with what passed for a sneer on something with no visible face. “A dolt of a colt like you, I’m surprised you don’t get lost getting out of bed in the morning.”

Snails stepped back in shock and hurt. “Th-- that was mean,” they stuttered. “And I’m not a colt, eh?”

“No surprise your parents never get along with you around," Despair continued. "All those disagreements, wouldn't it be better if they just-- split?"

“Leave them alone!” Beatrix and Trixie said in one furious voice as Snips put a comforting hoof around his best friend and glared impotently at the spirit.

Despair’s eyes flashed. “Ah, the wonder twins, Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” he said. “Stepping up to defense at last, hm?”

A brief gesture, and both mares went for an impromptu flight. Beatrix smacked the wall with a meaty thump. Despite looking like a fine mist, it was about as yielding as five-year-old fruitcake, and even less enjoyable. She pulled herself up and saw that Trixie had already recovered herself. A long crack ran up the side of her horn, and it was shooting sparks intermittently.

“Those two aren’t your concern,” she spat, marking the ground dark red with flecks of blood. “This is about Trixie and about  _her_.”

“On the contrary. All despair is my concern, no matter how small, no matter how well-hidden.” The spirit stalked towards Beatrix, who scrabbled to her hooves in fright. He took her chin in a long, withered hoof and tilted her face up to meet his burning eyes. His breath stank of onions and stale cigars. “Every insecurity, every fear, every embarrassment, every hurt, all of it. Mine.”

He lifted Beatrix’s chin a little further, then toppled her onto her backside. “Most ponies don’t have all that many. Comparatively, I mean,” he said, turning away. “There are some dense concentrations in Cloudsdale, Manehattan, Canterlot. But most of you are just too  _nice_. I enjoyed getting to play with Ponyville. Such a shame, I always break my toys.”

“You mean-- you were behind the explosions?” Beatrix asked.

“Oh, yes. A little of my power mixed in with the flour, and everything goes up in flames. Houses, ponies, relationships. Just to watch the pretty fire burn it all away.”

Beatrix was shaking now. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would my brother do this? What did this town ever do to him?”

Despair might have smiled, though it didn’t seem likely. “Isn’t it obvious? He did it all for you.”

***

The Brigadier had ordered everypony back to allow Twilight room to work on breaking through the heat barrier. Rainbow, Pinkie, and Rarity had all been permitted to stay and lend whatever help they could. This was for the most part limited to Dash flapping her wings to produce a breeze, Pinkie providing sweets from places better left unknown, and Rarity staring at the mill, ruminating and regretting. She had started by regretting everything she had done that day. From there, she moved on to regretting that regret could not fix regrettable issues, and then she regretted wishing that regret had such powers.

She had made a terrible, terrible mistake. No, she refused to call it a mistake. That cheapened the severity of the situation. Everything she had done had been purposeful and meticulously plotted, and the result had been exactly as intended. She had done something monstrous, and she didn’t even know how she could ever hope to make things right again. She would take her punishment with grace, of course, and humbly, but that would only right things in the eyes of the law. There had been so many that she had hurt--

“Rarity!”

“Hwah?” Rarity jerked to, looking around wildly.

Twilight was glaring at her. “For the third time, help me twist these wires together!”

“Oh-- I-- yes, of course.” Rarity looked at the machine. “Twilight, where did you get all of these parts from?”

“Three alarm clocks, four hoof-held video games, a ham radio, and a junk drawer, all of which Pinkie kept stored in her mane for reasons I’m not even going to ask about. Now, please.” Twilight gave Rarity a sort of painful, strained smile, the sort that spoke to Rarity of pain and stress and everything burning forever and small stuffed toys. “Twist these two wires together.”

Rarity quickly twisted the two wires together. Twilight looked over the machine once more, checking for any flaws or faults. At length, she nodded and flipped a switch. There was a hum, and a wave of cooler air swept over all four mares. The Brigadier looked over and began to move purposefully towards them.

“So, good news or bad news?” Twilight asked as the zebra approached.

“Surprise me.”

“I can open up a hole in the heat shield for however long we’ll need it.”

“And the dark cloud on the silver lining?”

Twilight winced. “It’s a very small hole. Big enough for four ponies. Five at a squish.”

The Brigadier frowned. “Ah, shame. Well, I’ll just have to get four of my best in.”

“Ah,” said Twilight. “That’s the other thing.”

“What’s that--” the Brigadier did a quiet headcount. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I’m going in. My friends are coming with me. I’d prefer if you came along as well, but if not…”

The Brigadier narrowed her green eyes. “I swear, if this goes south…”

“Glad to have you aboard,” Twilight said, pushing the machine into the heat field. “Now, stay close…”

***

Beatrix blinked. “Excuse me?”

She looked at Trixie, but her alter ego looked just as surprised. “Why would Evening Glow ever do anything on my behalf?”

“He’s your brother,” Despair said witheringly. “Did you think that he wouldn’t want the best for his little sister?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds about right to Trixie.”

“And there we have the problem,” the spirit said, gesturing to Trixie.

The stage magician snorted. “That Evening Glow only cares about himself and will use Trixie or anypony else to get what he wants? Trixie agrees.”

Despair made a short, sharp gesture. This time, it was Snips and Snails who smacked into the wall. “Hey!” Beatrix said indignantly. “What did they ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Despair said. “It’s what they mean to the pair of you that’s important. So keep your tongues civil, or your young fans will face the consequences…”

Beatrix was relieved to see both foals slowly getting upright. “Okay. But please, can you just tell me clearly what you were sent here to do?”

“I am Despair, Soul-Crusher, Destroyer of Dreams. I am here to kill you in exchange for my freedom to do as I please in this world.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “And that’s what’s best for me, is it?” Beatrix demanded.

“Perhaps I was not clear,” Despair sighed. “Or perhaps you are simply too stupid to understand. I was summoned to kill one of you and leave the other alone. Trixie or Beatrix, but not both.”

“I-- what?” Beatrix demanded, her heart racing. “A-and how do you choose which one?”

“I don’t. That’s your choice.”

“The Great and Powerful--” the sudden silence was stunning. Beatrix turned around and saw that Trixie’s mouth had disappeared. The showmare continued to shout and rave, apparently not recognizing the fact that all she could do was mumble indistinctly.

“Consider carefully,” Despair said. “How much use was Trixie, really? A loudmouth braggart transient. All she ever did was insult ponies, get into trouble, run away… what kind of life is that? How much could she ever have accomplished? What was it all for?”

Beatrix’s voice caught in her throat. She looked to Snips and Snails for support. They were gone.

***

“Beatrix?” Trixie shouted. “Don’t listen to the evil spirit! Beatrix, listen to Trixie! Why are you not listening to Trixie!”

Snips hopped down from the platform and tried to draw closer to Beatrix, but he hit an invisible wall. “Ow,” he whined. “I don’t think we can get through to her.”

“An illusion? This thing seeks to use illusions against Trixie?” She scowled and yanked off her hat.

“What’re you doing?” Snails asked.

“Rule one of magic. Never go anywhere without fireworks!”

She pulled out a striped rocket larger than her leg and aimed it at the spirit, lighting it with a quick spell. “Really, what could you have accomplished as Trixie? She didn’t have any purpose in life, no real ability.”

Trixie's hooves shook and her aim veered wildly. “Excuse you? The Great and Powerful Trixie has plenty of ability!”

“No ambitions beyond her next meal and a place to sleep…”

“That’s not true!” Trixie shouted, dropping the firework to the ground. Fortunately, Snails had the presence of mind to snuff out the fuse. “Trixie has plenty of ambition! She will be the greatest in the world. You’ll see! You’ll see!” She banged on the wall of force. "Listen to Trixie!"

***

“Think of what you could accomplish at your brother’s side. Not much, of course. You’re still a pathetic hack who can hardly socialize. But more than you could trying to be something you blatantly aren’t.”

Beatrix stared at the ground for a long, long time, thinking. It hadn't been so bad in Neigh Orleans. She'd always had a clean bed, food, decent health care. She would be able to see Flora and Fauna, and Dr. Comfort, and all her other old friends. A deathly pall hung in the air as she thought about them all.

She thought about Flora and Fauna and their warm cocoa on those cold mornings where nopony else was at breakfast.

She thought about Dr. Southern Comfort's funny stories that he told to distract her from itching bandages and jagged scars.

She thought about Old Jack, who taught her to fish every Saturday morning, and how to win at cards when the evening set in.

She thought about Ponyville and all the sympathetic ears, all the Twilight Sparkles and Applejacks and Pinkie Pies, all the warm hearts that had opened up to her after she had been in the cold for so long...

She looked at her double. Really looked. Trixie was banging her hooves on some invisible surface, like a mime artist. No, she realized with a jolt, there was some invisible wall there. And almost invisible to even Trixie's trained eye, two figures moving; one tall and slim, one stout. Snips and Snails hadn't vanished at all. It was just a trick, like everything else Despair was. It misdirected you, hiding all the joy and goodness in your life and saying it had all disappeared.

“Take all the time you need, Beatrix,” Despair said. “I was told that you never were the quickest…”

The pall thickened. At last, almost glacially, Beatrix lifted her head. “I choose Trixie.”

The silence returned, but this time it was more stunned than stoic. Even the mouthless Trixie stared in shock and confusion. Despair recovered first. “You mean that you choose for her to perish, of course, I--”

“Do not presume to tell the GRRRREAT! and POWERFUL! TRIXIE! what she means!” Beatrix stepped toward the spirit. It hovered back nervously.

“Did you really think that cutting Trixie down would make Beatrix the more appealing choice?” she snarled. “All that distrust, that belittling, all that hurt, that was where Trixie was born! Beatrix created Trixie as the master illusionist to make her pains disappear! The escape artist to leave her old life behind! The overblown, bombastic magician to remind herself that she was great and powerful by name and nature. A new identity with a new sort of family, to leave the other ones behind where they belonged; in the dust. A new family who loved her, cared about her, would never see her slip into that-- that oblivion ever again!

“So, now you have a choice. Will you do as you’re told, destroy the right mare and be allowed to slip back into the outer realms? Or will you destroy Trixie, break with your contract, and be blasted into near oblivion?”

Despair snarled, glowing at one and then the other. And then he leapt for her. For just a moment, she saw sharp fangs and pincers like a centipede’s, and she smelled the hot tang of the spirit’s foul breath. Then a wave of disorientation struck her, and she stumbled forward. She hurt all over, and she was pretty sure that she was missing a few teeth. But she felt the weight of her hat on her head, and the tattered scraps of her cloak hung round her neck. Snips and Snails stood at her side, looking dazed and probably traumatized

There was no sign of Beatrix. Trixie shoved that to the very back of her mind.

Trixie reached up a hoof and touched the crystal that clasped the cloak together; it was fractured, but still there. She clutched it, let it fill her with confidence. “Well?” she demanded of the beast. “Begone from this place, foul one! Trouble Trixie no more!”

She took a few steps toward the spirit, making sure she was between Despair and the foals. “Shoo,” she said, impatiently waving a hoof.

“Foolish mare,” Despair laughed. “Did you really think I would simply go away? I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and I am free to do as I please. This town, this nation will crumble in my wake.”

Trixie quirked an eyebrow. “Trixie thinks that somepony didn’t read the fine print.”

“Eh?” Despair said. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of a cold wind blowing past him.

“It's just more misdirection. Legal misdirection, much nastier than anything Trixie would dream of. You filled your role. You did what you had to. You got your payment. Anything else would be giving you more than Evening got back, and worse yet, it would be a challenge to whatever power he'd gathered. He'd never stand for that.”

“No. No! I was promised freedom!”

“What did you think you had all day?” Trixie shouted back over the sound of rushing wind. The runes began to spiral in wild patterns and chunks of ethereal wall broke away. “Discord’s in the details, Despair!”

The spirit let out a howl of rage as his physical form collapsed. “Curse you! Curse you all!” Despair flashed a bright, almost blinding, white, and a blast of energy filled the room. The last thing Trixie remembered doing was throwing up a shield spell.

***

Pinkie Pie paused as the small group made their way down the hall. “Twitchy tail!”

The other three Ponyvillians glanced at one another and then dove into a nearby office. The Brigadier watched, nonplussed, as three grown mares all tried to cram themselves under a desk. “What in Celestia’s name?”

Rarity poked her head out for a moment. “Darling. A word of advice. If Pinkie Pie’s tail twitches, it is always wisest to--”

“Duck and cover!” Pinkie squealed, tail vibrating like a tuning fork. She grabbed Brigadier Bombardier and forced all four of the other mares under the desk before squeezing herself into one of its drawers.

The building rumbled and shook. There was a sound like an avalanche. Then, silence.

One by one, the five mares squashed their way free of the desk. There was a moment of reorientation, stretching limbs and twisting spines back into positions.

Then, Twilight froze. “Trixie,” she said before running off. The others quickly came to the same conclusion and followed close behind her.

Around them, the effects of Despair’s reign were already beginning to fade. The fires had gone out and the mold was gone, though everything that had been destroyed remained so. All up and down the corridors, mill-workers were waking up, bleary-eyed, from their waking nightmares. The five mares ran on. The mill-workers could take care of themselves.

Outside, they heard the shouts and cries of a platoon realizing that they were no longer blocked by a wall of heat. The Brigadier glanced out through a hole in the wall with concern. “Go,” Twilight ordered. “Stand them down and get them to organize evacuation efforts.”

Bombardier gave a short nod and was away.

It took the four remaining mares about three minutes to reach the door they wanted. It hung ajar, and rock dust floated in the air. Sunshine filtered through into the hall. Immediately, Twilight was through the door, levitating away chunks of rubble like a mare possessed. Rarity quickly followed suit. If Trixie was injured-- or, heaven forbid, worse-- she knew where that blame would fall. Where it deserved to fall. Dear Celestia, Snips and Snails would have been in here, too…

Then, a hunk of rock fell away, and a pink glow filtered through. Unmistakably Trixie’s magic. Twilight hauled away the rest of the rubble around it. There was a shield spell up. It encased the unconscious, but still-breathing forms of Snips and Snails. But there was no sign of Trixie.

“The spell is still active,” Rarity said. “She must be maintaining it somehow.”

That was enough to galvanize Twilight back into action, throwing chunks of rock out of the way. “Dash, can you get Snips and Snails to the hospital?”

“On it!”

There were three, then. Rarity and Twilight continued moving rubble as best they were able while Pinkie bounced in place, full of nervous energy.

And then they found her.

She was still breathing.

That was the only positive.

Rarity cast around wildly. “Fabric,” she said unintelligibly. “We need to make splints, a makeshift cot…”

Twilight shut her eyes tight and her horn flared. Trixie’s prone form lit up violet and froze stiff. “Time dilation,” she said, strained. “Nothing to do-- until paramedics arrive.”

***

The paramedics did indeed arrive, not long afterwards. That had been some hour and a half ago. Twilight had returned to her castle to see the displaced townsponies settled in. Pinkie had gone to visit the Cake twins. Rainbow Dash was passed out at Sweet Apple Acres after a very, very long day. Evening had fallen. Rarity remained in the waiting room. Waiting.

At length, she saw a familiar cutie mark pass by. “Nurse Redheart?” she called, stumbling upright. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“If you can keep up,” the mare called back, already rounding a corner. Rarity hurried in pursuit.

“Trixie,” she said. “How is she?”

“You realize I’m not meant to impart that sort of information to non-family members, don’t you?”

Rarity flinched back. “Ah, of course. My apologies.”

Redheart shook her head and waved her on. “I’ll tell you this much. She’s lost a lot of blood. More than we have handy. It doesn’t look good, but she’s a tough one.”

“Hm,” said Rarity. “What’s her blood type?”

“AB-negative,” Redheart replied. “Meaning she can’t take your A-positive, I’m afraid, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“I see. Thank you. I have to go.”

***

There was a knock at the door of room 37. Written Script let it swing open. Carrot didn’t look up. “Stupid,” she breathed, staring at Snails’ sleeping form. They had been bruised in several places, but no serious harm had been done. Not to Snails, anyway.

“Hello, Carrot.”

“Go drive yourself into a railroad tie, Rarity.”

“Later, perhaps. I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Silence reigned. Rarity soldiered on. “You have type-O blood, don’t you, Carrot? You were almost the only one in the village, apart from Cranky Doodle.”

“So?”

“So the hospital needs more blood. Trixie lost, I’m told, a dangerous amount.”

“Get it from Canterlot.”

“That will take time. Time that Trixie likely doesn’t have.”

Carrot glared at a wall. “Why does it have to be me?”

“It doesn’t. I’m sure I can track down a type AB-negative donor faster than any blood can arrive by rail. But Carrot…” Rarity looked down at Snails. “She saved them.”

A pause. A sigh. “Where’s the needle, already?”

***

Rarity left the hospital some half-hour later. She was tired. She wanted to go home, to sleep. But she fumbled in her saddlebags and pulled out a scrap of cloth. It was wisteria, covered in stars and moons. Where the hat had come from, nopony could guess. There was still work to be done tonight. She looked up at the castle. There was work to be prepared for on the morrow, as well. She gave a weary sigh and made her way up to see Twilight and get the information she would need.


	13. Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

Trixie groaned a bit as her eyelids fluttered open. The smell of disinfectant was strong in the air. She was confronted with a whitewashed ceiling and bright lights, and she gazed up for a moment. Her throat felt phlegmy and sticky, as though it had been left unused for far too long. A mask sat over her mouth, and she removed it with a free hoof. “ _Ow_ ,” she observed.

“Ah, Miss Lulamoon.” A white mare with a pink mane smiled down at her. “We really must stop meeting like this.”

“ _Nurse Redheart_ ,” Trixie said froggily. She coughed, loosening the fluids in her throat. “Trixie would like to avoid making a habit of that, yes.”

“Passing out, or meeting me?” the nurse teased.

“Urg. How long has Trixie been unconscious?”

Redheart’s smile faded. “Almost four days, now.”

“Four--” Trixie tried to sit up, but a system of tubes held her down.

Nurse Redheart made a slight adjustment to one of the machines, and a wave of relaxation washed over Trixie. “Lie down, please.”

Trixie gave her a goofy smile. “Only if you lie  _with_  Trixie,” she slurred.

Redheart laughed. “No, I can’t do that. I’ve got other patients to see.”

“Bet they aren’t as pretty as Trixie.”

“No, I suppose not. Lie down, and I’ll tuck you in.”

“Fiiine.” Trixie slumped back, overexerted. “Tell Trixie something nice before she goes to sleep.”

The nurse smiled. “Here. Ponies have been sending you a lot of presents these last few days.” She tucked a small plush rabbit into Trixie’s hooves. “This was from Fluttershy,” she began, but she stopped when she saw that Trixie was already sound asleep again. She smiled and slipped out of the room.

***

Twilight smiled at Daisy as she passed by the mare. The earth pony was busily pulling weeds out of Bonbon’s overgrown herb garden, part of her community service for helping to chase Trixie out of town. Snips and Snails’ account of Despair’s influence on the town had persuaded her to urge Lady Justice for a more lenient sentence on all parties, as their judgement had been magically impaired. The judge had agreed, and most of the rioters had been sentenced to fifty hours of community service apiece for destruction of property and disturbing the peace.

Ironically, the two ringleaders who had been served with harsher sentences had also been the ones permitted to delay the start of their labors. Carrot Top, having helped supply Ponyville General with a lot of new blood, couldn’t work for obvious medical reasons. Rarity had petitioned for a delay for different reasons, and the judge had kindly granted her request. She was due to return to town with Spike and Lieutenant Sentry later that afternoon, and would begin her hundred hours of community service the next day.

In her absence, Rarity had left Coco Pommel in charge of Carousel Boutique, and that was just who Twilight was on her way to visit. Reconstruction of the Boutique was coming along very nicely, Twilight observed. Its kitchen had been the one repair that hadn’t been covered by the crown’s Everfree Protection Charter. Rarity had accepted that censure with good grace and taken the opportunity to remodel. Twilight wasn’t sure if she disapproved of this levity in the face of her punishment or applauded her friend’s ability to make the best of a bad situation. In the end, she decided that Rarity was remorseful, and that if she wanted to spend a little extra money on renovations, that was none of Twilight’s concern. Particularly not when Rarity had invested so much effort into that apology project of hers…

She shook off her reverie as she walked through the main entrance of the store. “Oh! Hello, and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is-- oh, good morning, your highness.”

“Coco, I’ve told you, you can just call me Twilight.”

“Yes, your-- Twilight.” Coco coughed. “Um, you’ve come to pick up the special order?”

Twilight nodded. “Right this way,” Coco said, then hesitated. “Um, normally I would never leave the register unattended…”

“I know, Coco.”

“But it’s not been a very busy day.”

“I expect that’s so.”

“It’s been a slow week, actually.”

“Yes.”

“It’s much busier in Manehattan.”

Twilight gestured out the window. “More ponies want haute couture in Manehattan.”

Coco scrutinized the many unclothed forms passing by. “I see what you mean. Um, anyway. The order.”

She led Twilight back to a door set in the back wall of the Boutique and showed her in. “So, what do you think?”

Twilight drank in the hat and cape combination. The jewel that clasped the cloak at the collar. The stars, the moons, the field of wisteria. “It’s perfect, Coco. She’ll love it.”

***

Rarity herself was on a train from Neigh Orleans, staring out the window. She saw the outskirts of the Everfree flying by, an endless expanse of green. Her heart was still heavy with the guilt of what she had done and what she had almost done. But this trip had served to alleviate that, to some degree. The last few days had been harrowing, to say the least, and she was so tired, she could just pass out there and then.

That would have to wait, though. Miles to go before I sleep, she thought.

Sitting opposite her was Spike, apparently absorbed in the Power Ponies Classic Omnibus, vol. 3. But every now and again, he peered over the top of the book and watched Rarity staring out of the window.

The morning after it had all happened, he had knocked on the door of the Boutique. There had been no reply, so he let himself in and sat in the kitchen. All the night before, he’d sat up, thinking about what he wanted to say, what he needed to hear in order to make things right. When Rarity had arrived some ten minutes later, disheveled, he’d got no farther than “Rarity--” when she cut him off and told him that she couldn’t talk. She was busy trying to make reparations for how she’d treated Trixie.

And so, they had gone to Neigh Orleans to see the neighborhood where Trixie had grown up. They had spent hours tracking down anypony who had known her as a filly and just-- talking. Rarity had been as a force of nature, refusing to sleep until Spike had to forcibly drag her to bed and snuggle with her. It had been a fruitful trip.

Flash Sentry, who had been assigned to keep an eye on both of them, snoozed in the corner of the cabin and tried not to dream about swamps anymore.

The train rolled along, taking them back to Ponyville.

***

In Manehattan, a solitary ice-white unicorn sat in his penthouse office, almost catatonically still, staring at a folder. Every now and again, his horn would light, and he would flip to a different page, but that was the only sign he was awake at all.

The alarm on his desk buzzed. “Janice,” he said.

“It’s Janet, sir.”

“I can fire you anytime, Janine.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“What is it, Jenny?”

“A mare here to see you, sir.”

“Does she have an appointment?”

“Well, no, sir.”

“Send her away.”

“She’s been sent from Canterlot.”

For the first time, the stallion’s eyes sparked with interest. Canterlot. The greatest city in Equestria. He’d been there before, and the client paid much better than any mud horse in this dump of a city. “Very well, I can spare ten minutes.”

There was a murmured conversation. “She says she’ll only need two.”

A shark’s smile spread over the stallion’s face. “Efficient. A mare after my own heart.”

Before he clicked off the intercom, he was sure he heard her mutter, “If you had one.”

Well, that would wrap it up for Jeanie. A few seconds later, there was a rap at the door. “Enter.”

The mare who came in had a tan coat with a blonde mane. She wore a pink scarf, a purple blazer, and an expression of seemingly infinite distaste. If she wasn’t a dirt pony, she’d be perfect. He gestured to a chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”

“I prefer to stand,” the mare said shortly. “You are, I take it, Mr. Evening Glow?”

“Correct,” said the unicorn, re-evaluating his opinion of the mare.

“My name is Harshwhinny. I’ve been sent by the Equestrian government to give you this.”

She passed over a very official-looking manilla envelope. Evening opened it. Inside was a date and a location. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.

“You’ve been served,” Harshwhinny said simply. “An affray in Ponyville which nearly caused the destruction of the town has been connected with your business. Hadn’t you heard?”

“I do a lot of business,” Evening returned, tone growing colder. “I can’t be expected to keep track of every podunk earth pony village.”

“And yet you remembered it  _was_  an earth pony village.” If Evening was cold, Harshwhinny was arctic. “At any rate, you and your company will be under scrutiny for negligence, corruption, and possibly property damage. Report at eight in the morning-- sharp-- on the appointed date.

Evening had begun to sweat. Clearly his plans had taken a sour turn; he had been found out, and Beatrix had yet to report for duty. But perhaps he could mitigate the consequences. “Oh, dear,” he said. “Eight in the morning? I don’t know if I can attend. As I said, I do business  _all_ over Equestria, and I make  _quite_  a lot of money…”

He slid over a blank check. Harshwhinny stared at it for a moment. She took the manilla envelope back, and Evening smiled in triumph.

That smile faded when Harshwhinny wrote something in the margins of the letter and gave it back to him. “I’ll see you in court, Mr. Glow,” she said, leaving. It had been only one and a half minutes.

Evening stared at the paper. She had written in small, neat cursive beneath the other charges, “Attempting to bribe a government official.”

“One other thing,” Harshwhinny said, stopping at the door. “Princess Twilight Sparkle asked me to give you something special from her.”

Evening looked up. The mare was smirking at him. She took a breath and blew the longest, loudest raspberry he had ever heard. “Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Glow.”

And then, two minutes exactly after her arrival, she was gone again, leaving the stallion to pick through the shambles his life had just become.

***

The next morning, while Trixie was finishing up what the hospital had the audacity to call breakfast, a newspaper all but flew into her face. “Gah! What the--” She shoved the thing away. “What gives, Sparkle?”

Twilight grinned at her. “Read the headline,” she said, bouncing in place.

Trixie frowned, but did as she was told. After a moment, a wicked grin blossomed over her face. “Hah! Excellent!” she crowed. The paper fell back on the blanket, with the headline “Summoner Receives Summons!” emblazoned boldly on the front. Directly underneath was a photograph of Evening Glow shoving through a throng of cameras, his eyes blazing with the fury of one who has never been brought to account for anything he’d ever done to anypony.

After a moment, Trixie’s smile faded from blinding to merely brilliant. “Thank you,” she said. “From the bottom of Trixie’s heart.”

Twilight shrugged. “Well, I did a little digging. This isn’t the first time one of Evening’s jobs led to some catastrophe that usually ended especially badly for somepony he’d fallen out with. The courts just needed a few solid witnesses, and a body who wasn’t afraid to sue one of the most powerful stallions in Manehattan. The crown happened to suit that particular requirement rather well.”

“If Trixie could sit up, she would kiss you,” Trixie said.

“Funny you should say that,” Twilight said, igniting her aura. A wheelchair rolled into the room. “You’re being released from the hospital today.”

Trixie blinked. “Really? Um.”

“Obviously, you aren’t well enough to get up and walk around just yet,” Twilight continued. “But you can leave the hospital now.”

She leaned in. “You can have some  _real_  food,” she whispered. “Just saying.”

“That sounds… nice,” Trixie admitted. “But Trixie has nowhere to go, really. Where can she stay that hasn’t been blown up?”

Twilight frowned. “First of all, the town’s been repaired. You’ve been out for just shy of a week, everything’s pretty much back to normal.”

Trixie’s mouth dropped open. “Eh?”

“Ponyville needs to be fixed basically every week. We’ve got a sort of routine,” Twilight explained. “Second, I thought you were still staying with me? Remember, I asked you if you wanted a job as my assistant? That was serious.”

Silence. Twilight slumped. “Okay. Well, it was just a thought, I guess. You’re still welcome to stay at the castle, of course--”

“Trixie will consider it.”

Immediately, the princess brightened. “Great! I mean, like I said, you don’t have to but, um… Great!”

Trixie smirked. “You’re a dork.”

“And you’re filling Spike’s shoes admirably,” Twilight said cheerfully. “Now, c’mon, let’s get you checked out of here.”

***

Trixie sat in that wheelchair like a queen, raising a hoof to give the royal wave to ponis on the street. Most of them waved back, smiled. A few came over to ask how she was recovering, or apologize for ostracizing her. A few, some very few, turned away. They looked more embarrassed than anything else. Twilight made a mental note to talk with them later on. Or perhaps to have Trixie talk with them.

But that would wait until later. Right now, Twilight was much more concerned about what was waiting back at the castle. Suddenly, she realized that she was no longer pushing the wheelchair. Trixie had taken control and pushed her way over to the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who were attempting to calm down a crying Button Mash.

Twilight watched as Button spilled his tragic tale of dropping his lunch in the lake. Trixie stroked an imaginary beard throughout the story, looking thoughtful. Then, she held up a hoof, reached behind her back, and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Button was so surprised, he immediately stopped crying. The other Crusaders applauded, and Trixie bowed as best she could before wheeling away.

Where had that bouquet come from? Twilight wondered. She glanced around, and her eyes fell on the flower stall, where Daisy hadn’t yet noticed a large empty space near the front of her display. Twilight sighed and levitated over a few bits before hurrying after the wheelchair-bound unicorn. At least Trixie seemed to be back to her old self after the trauma she’d undergone.

***

Pinkie bounced all around the foyer of the castle, making last-minute adjustments to banners and balloons and other party paraphernalia. Rarity and Spike set up their display in the corner of the room, sorting photographs and letters and pinning them to corkboard. Applejack squabbled with Rainbow Dash about the ethics of diving into the bottled cider before the guest of honor arrived. Fluttershy stood off to the side, awkwardly holding a glass of milk. In the center of the maelstrom, Big Macintosh stood by the centerpiece of the party. He wiped a little mud off the side with a foreleg.

Suddenly, Pinkie froze in mid-jump and plummeted like a stone. “Shh!” she hissed, waving a hoof frantically. “I think I can hear them!”

Silence fell, and everypony hid as best they could. There was indeed the faint sound of wheels squeaking along and growing ever-closer. “Trixie did not remember seeing a wheelchair ramp by the front steps…”

“It’s better not to question anything about the castle’s architecture,” Twilight replied. “One time, a journalist tried to write a report on its design. The doctors say she’s making a remarkable recovery, but she hasn’t said a word since she left.”

The main doors swung open. Moments later, Trixie’s wheelchair squeaked in. “What the--”

“SURPRISE!”

Everypony jumped out of their hiding spots, smiling broadly.

Trixie being Trixie, she screamed and pushed back against the door, sending herself and her wheelchair rolling, uncontrolled down the ramp.

Twilight sighed. She lit her horn, and gently slowed Trixie’s rapid descent before rolling her back up the ramp. “Trixie, it’s okay. This party is for you. We’re all friends here.”

“Oh.” Trixie shot a dubious look at Rarity, but said nothing more.

Then, her eyes fell on the centerpiece of the whole event. “Trixie’s wagon! You got it unstuck!”

She rolled herself over to her home of over a decade and rubbed the wooden wall with something approaching reverence. “Thank you,” she said at last.

Mac smiled. “Eeyup.”

“No problem!” Pinkie said. She paused. “Well, there were some problems. But it’s alright now!”

“That’s not all, either,” Spike continued, pulling out a coat hanger.

“Trixie’s cloak! Trixie’s hat!” Trixie gasped. “How did you-- What--”

“We know a mare from Manehattan who specializes in millinery,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Um, I helped with some of the repairs on the cloak.”

Trixie snatched the clothes away, jamming the hat on her head. The cloak took a little more effort, but she eventually settled for leaving the tail end hanging over the back of the seat. “Yes, yes, yes…” she chanted, then paused. “Erm, that is…”

“It was my pleasure,” Fluttershy said with a small smile. “Coco’s, too.”

“There’s one last thing,” Rarity said, and Trixie tightened her grip on her hat.

“What would that be?” she asked, eyeing the other unicorn warily.

Rarity gave her a wan smile. “Twilight told us all a little of your history while we were in the hospital waiting room,” she said. “I asked for a few more details, and travelled to Neigh Orleans.”

She paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “I was a boor to you, Trixie. I suspect that any relationship we ever have will be tainted by my actions for some time to come. But I hope that this goes some way towards enhancing your recovery.”

She gestured toward a board in the corner, covered with papers and photographs. Trixie squinted. Some of those photos seemed familiar. Then she saw it. A little brick restaurant, all overgrown with red and violet flowers. “Flora and Fauna’s…”

“A delightful pair,” Rarity said. “They made the most buttery croissants, and insisted I bring back a box of beignets…”

But Trixie wasn’t listening anymore. She had rolled right up to the board, and was studying it with fervor. She saw Dr. Comfort, much older now, and apparently in a wheelchair himself. There was Old Jack with his wife and kids and even a couple of grandkids, now. And there he was again, standing next to a stuffed swordfish half again as big as he was. Flora and Fauna peered out through the glass of their storefront. There, the old theatre, apparently renovated and turned into a cinema. There, the old swamp witch’s house where the neighbor foals would always dare each other to ring the bell. More, and more besides that swam before Trixie’s eyes.

And then there were the letters. Letters from old friends, mentors, schoolmates, new admirers, journalists, theatre managers… all of them expressing their pride in her. All of them singing the praises of their hometown hero, Trixie; truly, a great and powerful mare. Rarity frowned. “It is alright, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously.

“...It’s wonderful,” Trixie whispered. “Thank you.”

The party was excellent. The food was good, the company was lively-- though Rarity had to leave rather quickly to get to her court-appointed community service-- and the conversation sparkling. There was even a cake, though everypony swore black and blue that nopony knew who the mare was that jumped out of it was, how she had gotten in there, or where she had gone afterwards. Magnificent as the affair must have been, Trixie’s eyes kept drifting back to the board. Back home. She could never again be Beatrix. Somewhere, deep in her heart of hearts, she knew that. But she and Trixie had shared an upbringing, to some degree. She thought about that a great deal.

And then it was over. The food was packed away, the guests bid Trixie and Twilight good night, and all was silence once more.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Twilight asked.

Trixie nodded. “Good party. Pinkie knows her business.”

“You should come to more of her parties.” The unspoken question hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Trixie will be heading off once her injuries are healed,” Trixie said.

“Oh,” said Twilight. “I see.”

“But not, she thinks, for long.”

“Oh?”

Trixie shook her head. “No. Trixie gracefully accepts your request for a new secretary, but she has business to take care of elsewhere. Family business.” She nodded meaningfully at the board.

Twilight’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I understand.”

She didn’t, obviously. Trixie wasn’t sure if she ever could understand what she had gone through. What she was still going through. What she might always be going through. But she understood enough to give Trixie the space and resources to care for herself, and that was enough for now.

She would go back to Neigh Orleans and mourn. She would mourn all the years she had spent away from her family, her real family. She would mourn the time she had wasted in petty revenge and spite. But most of all, she would mourn Beatrix, who had been braver than she’d ever known, and more like Trixie than she’d ever believed.

And on that note…

“If you read about the Lulamoon estate blowing up in the next few days, cover for Trixie.”

“You realize that even my influence can only go so far if you’re caught.”

Trixie grinned. “If.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to go to bed now to try and maintain some plausible deniability,” Twilight said, struggling to keep a straight face. “C’mon, I’ll take you to your room.”

And she wheeled Trixie away, out of the main hall, away from the black rose in her caravan that Trixie wouldn’t discover for days. The black rose that had been slipped in while everypony had been distracted by the mare in the cake. The black rose that had a note attached to it, that read, “Well done,” and was signed, “the Grand MacGuffin.”


End file.
